Cat and Mouse
by Blackfire 18
Summary: Razer corners Rayn in an alleyway to waylay a message from G.T. Blitz, requesting an audience of her, but she proves to be...reluctant to agree. He reveals he's come out of retirement to the astonished woman. What's a late crime boss' daughter to do?
1. Shocking News

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 1: Shocking News**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

The sun had already set when Rayn began walking back to the garage from the Naughty Ottsel, the saloon that had once been her father's, carrying her computerized notepad and deftly rearranged files; her father could be such a messy sort. Her heels clicked down the gray, monotonous alleyways she vaguely remembered walking from her brief visits to Haven City as a child. Even as she walked and worked studiously at the notepad, she was aware of her surroundings, but it grew difficult to see into dark corners the compacted buildings formed as the last rays of sunlight faded.

Rayn had turned the last corner to the alleyway that led straight to the mobile garage another quarter mile off, but a rogue puff of smoke beneath a stranded overpass caught her eye.

"Good evening."

Rayn started at the voice, heavily accented, but not like her own; she stopped short as her eyes strained to see the owner of the voice through the gloom.

A long drag on the cigarette faintly illuminated a sharp jaw line and pointed nose, and Rayn recognized the slinky stranger with a shock. She pressed the notepad to her chest as the little light went out and a sharply dressed man stepped out of the shadows. It was none other than Mizo's prized championship racer, Razer.

"It's not safe for a young lady such as yourself to be wandering the streets this time of night," The man took another drag and blew the smoke to one side, then motioned to himself with his cigarette hand; leaving a curling trail of smoke with the motion. "Perhaps you would like an escort?" Contempt creased the woman's brow.

"No, I'm perfectly capable of walking the last stretch myself, thank you." She made to pass on his left, but he stepped into her path.

"You can never be too careful; who knows what kind of city vermin may be waiting to spring on a lady."

Rayn clutched at her precious notepad, but her expression of lightly teasing skepticism did not falter. "Such as a retired racer?" Razer hummed in amusement.

"Oh yes, they're the worst kind; but I am not a retired racer." He smiled spitefully at her confusion, but then she was lightly teasing again.

"Last I checked, spending countless hours at the bar table does not a racer make. Who knew retirement of such a grand title dwindles so quickly to mindless barbarism?"

The racer's face turned ugly one moment, but he seemed to regain his integrity with the contended thought that he knew something the crime boss' daughter did not. Ignoring her impious smile, he gestured with his cigarette hand in mock surprise. "You didn't know?" Razer chuckled and took another drag. "I'm coming out of retirement; just for your _Jak_." He paused to watch Rayn's reaction, her smile had fallen with lips parted, but no sound came from them. The racer continued. "He's proved to be a rather trying menace to Mizo. I must say it will be thrilling to meet that boy of yours on the track. I'll have a Peacemaker marker ready for him." Razer took another long drag, enjoying the woman's scandalized alarm. "I would love to say good-bye to him before the race, if you would like my escort."

"Mizo must be very _desperate_ to pull you from retirement so suddenly."

"I asked him to."

Rayn blinked twice and processed this new information.

"I was appalled with the races this season, and I'm sure I could make the wager much more interesting." He stepped towards her and gestured his cigarette hand towards her as though to imply his knowledge of a specific bet between the major bosses.

The woman's shock turned to pertinent objection as she glanced once at his hand and returned her scathing gaze towards him. She did not reply to the insinuative offer. Razer rolled his eyes up and hummed in a condescending way, but did not argue. "No matter," he said, shrugging off the rejection as though casually flicking a speck of dust off his cuffs and continued with an air of nonchalance. "I was actually told to waylay a message from G.T. Blitz. Since Jak has proved so, ah, _resistant_ with the media, he requests an audience with you." The racer's eyes slid over to her, surveying. Her eyes widened before growing suspicious. This entire situation had every sign of a trap, and she had just felt the first tug of the line. Rayn chose her words carefully; taking the same care to study his initial reaction.

"Why did he not come here himself? Why send you?"

Razer shrugged vaguely. "He's a busy man, you know how those journalists are. I try to help out where I can. It would make him very happy if you entertained an interview."

Rayn stood at her full height, like a cat bristling at a threat.

"I'm afraid I will have to decline. I'm already running late for a meeting with my racers." Rayn took a step back as Razer slowly advanced on her.

"Oh, I think Mister Blitz will be very disappointed to hear that. Crushed even. You do not have fifteen minutes to spare for him? Truly you cannot be so heartless?" By this time, Razer had advanced so far on Rayn that the woman's back was now a mere handbreadth from the wall behind her. Razer reached out and placed a hand on the wall beside her head. Rayn's back hit the wall. The heady smell of smoke and spices washed over her and she was suddenly struck dizzy; he was much too close. She convinced herself that the shiver that ran up her spin was one of revulsion and nothing else.

Razer smiled when she started. She held the notepad between them like a barrier, but the man appeared unaffected by device or action as he leaned closer to her; his velvety voice sighed. "He may be very offended."

Rayn shook off the nearness of the man to the best of her ability, though unable to entirely dissipate the heat that still rose pink in her cheeks, she bit out a snapping retort.

"I am not interested in a grandiose, superficial interview with that pompous imbecile," She said defiantly, though her voice did quiver slightly.

"Really?" Razer murmured in amusement, leaning more heavily against the wall. The woman pressed back to restore a more comfortable distance, but the wall would not move. "You do not wish for the attention the media will give you? I'm sure the…appeal will not be an issue." He said and gave an appreciative look over the woman's curves. The chauvinistic air brought her back to her senses.

"No," Rayn said sharply, pushing off the wall and moving into Razer's face; his expression changed drastically as he was forced to step back to recover from the outburst. "We have enough hovering camera's and blatant live reviews as it is. You can just tell that smarmy Blitz I refuse," and it was here Rayn flashed the startled Razer a vicious smile, "and maybe if the blighter is in a good mood, he won't kill the messenger." She cut around him and began to walk off when Razer, composing himself with a pull at his jacket to straighten his collar, hailed her.

"My, my, the cat has claws," he smiled, impressed, and caught up to her slowing stride in an unimposing manner. "But don't leave in a temper, I did not mean to offend. I would not leave a negative impression on the late crime boss' daughter." Razer looked mockingly remorseful. The smooth barb pierced Rayn and she was surprised at the hurt it caused. What gave this man any right to mention her father so aloofly? A man with ties to the crime family that rivaled hers? However, when she turned to glance at him over her shoulder, her expression was cold.

"Indeed."

Razer was smiling again; the sting was in place and would smart for some time to come.

"Please be careful for the remainder of your stroll."

She glared at him once more and began to take her leave, but Razer hailed her again.

"Wait! Are you not going to wish a championship racer good luck?"

Rayn paused in her stride, her back to him for a moment before she turned to face him; a small, wicked smile curled the edges of her lips.

"I will when I see him."

She was pleased to see Razer's face contort before she took her next step toward the garage. He had detained her long enough, she was going to be horrendously late.

Razer watched the woman walk away with a pride and confidence that he had not suspected from the shrinking mouse she presented herself to be. In that brief conversation they had shared, the woman presented a small taste of what she was capable of. Razer was not sure what to make of it. She had a fire in her he found incredibly appealing, and a tongue laden with searing insults. Perhaps he could find a better use for it.

Still, for all her intoxicating curves and natural beauty; a woman should know her place. He would never take second to the inferior gender. And that woman did not seem the championship-racer-worshipping type.

The racer watched as the woman retreated with that sensual cat-walk of hers.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke through his nostrils.

The boss was not going to be very happy with this.

* * *

**Author's Note: Though I'm still rather taken with the Rayn/Jak idea, the Rayn/Razer has grown on me; with Rayn still my favorite of them all. But these pair of well brought up, rich, and classy no-good doers are just sexy together! (There! I said it!) Haha, I actually didn't intend to make so many ahh, ahem-hem innuendo's in this piece, but it just sort of turned out that way. Ah well. My only beef with this chapter is that Rayn seems flat; I love her being innocently-fierce and calculating and I don't think I quite delivered that here. I hope to remedy for my transgressions in later chapters.**

**Razer on the other hand just set my hands on fire--I loved writing for him for this whole thing! He's just so snooty, I love it. I usually hate writing the chauvanistic side to guys because it just gets me in a tizzy, but then that's just my vision of Razer. Smooth-talker that looks down on everyone else but the boss that pays him. Go figure.**

**Anywho, I will definitely have a second chapter to this, perhaps a third. I'm still working chapter layout in my head. (And the second chapter is, for the most part, written already so I hope to post it soon.)**

**Tell me what you all think! I deeply appreciate reviews! (Especially since this series is getting on in years--where's that fourth game!?)**

**Blackfire 18**


	2. Steeling the Competition

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 2: Steeling the Competition**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

Rayn was still fuming for the last stretch to the garage; her knuckles white around her father's journal. Mizo's retired racer reinstated just in time for the third grand prix complicated matters. She would not deny that Razer had remarkable skill and the trophies to prove his racing prowess lining the shelves in the Bloody Hook; naturally Razer liked to gloat his success to any person to enter the doors to the bar. It was all much too convenient for the opposing team. The knowledge made Rayn nervous. Jak, though a little rough around the edges, was an impressive racer, but Rayn knew the champion to be deadly and she was unsure if Jak could stand up to Razer. Razer had been known to cheat, and with Mizo to back him, the judges were sure to be kept silent either out of fear or a hefty, under the table pay raise. Next to the automaton racer, Razer held a great deal of the top records for kills in circuit races.

Rayn bit her lip. The risk was too great. She would have to intervene.

A muffled ringing emanated from her right pocket. She reached for it quickly and, glancing briefly at who was calling, deftly switched the phone open and held it to her ear.

"Yes, Gerard, what is it?"

A soft masculine voice, faintly cracked with age, answered.

"Ah, Ms. Rayn, how fares the race?"

"We're currently in the lead, but not by the most comfortable margin…"

"Has your team been treating you fairly since last we spoke?"

"Yes, for the most part," Rayn grimaced, "all except for the red-haired woman…She still doesn't trust me."

The man on the other end of the line laughed airily.

"Well, not everyone can be beguiled by your magnificent acting prowess."

"No, I suppose not." Rayn said, a small smile creeping across her lips. "I do try, dash it all."

"I trust you will be returning to the mansion soon; I've had nothing to do without someone to clean up after."

Rayn huffed in mock offense. "Surely I'm not as messy as my father." The man laughed again and offered his apologies. Rayn nodded as she silently accepted his words and curled a sapphire lock behind her ear. "Though I do miss your delicious roasts…"

"I shall just have to cook your favorite meal when you come home."

Rayn smiled.

"That would be wonderful." She paused to readjust the notepad that had slipped in her grip. "Ah, I should be back soon enough, we still have the Grand Championship to win."

"Oh, about that," the hesitance in the man's voice and the pause that followed ran a chill down Rayn's back. "The stake your father made may not be honored by Mizo, especially now he is no longer with us."

The woman came to a dead stop as she stared vacantly ahead. She was silent for so long that the voice across the line became harassed.

"Rayn? Rayn, dear?"

"You're right," she whispered, barely audible on the butler's end. "It's just the sort of thing Mizo would pull. Without my father here to…" Another pause. When she spoke again a new determination had filled her voice. "I'll just have to put a stop to that."

"Now Rayn, don't do anything drastic, it's my responsibility to—"

"Of course not, Gerard," Rayn cut across him with a fraudulent air of amusement. "I wouldn't dream of compromising my position."

"Rayn…" the man spoke warningly, "You've been in my company long enough I know when you are lying—"

"Good-bye, Gerard."

She snapped the phone shut again before he could reply and replaced it in her pocket, her stride now twice the pace she had been walking a few moments before.

She would have to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

G.T. Blitz stood on a balcony, overlooking the city. He had just finished his last broadcast for the day while the city slept for the race later that morning. Though he spoke and gestured the antics of the racing circuit, his mind was on other things. Well, one thing; a person rather. A woman. This particular woman was actually his arch-nemesis' daughter. She was young and she was beautiful; any man would want her. 

But it was not that simple—when was it ever?

That deal he had made with the Krew crime family about winning the Kras City Grand Championship would leave the city either in his hands, or to Krew's daughter. He thought for sure he would not have any trouble winning the championship against a fuzzy-headed girl that did not know a piston from an spark plug, but she had an ace up her sleeve. That Jak boy. How she, or Krew had come by him, Blitz did not know, but the damn boy was showing up all of his best racers. He had had to convince Razer to come out of retirement to bring that boy to justice—or permanent removal. Blitz had noticed the intensity his best racer had been showing for the races with that boy winning nearly every event. He knew he could race better than anyone on the track and he would grunt in frustration at every loss of his team. Naturally, Razer was happy to comply.

Of course, Blitz would attempt a final tactic to get the aspiring racing team of Krew's to quit, he truly was willing to forgive and forget—the opposing team had talent—but their racing was growing too great a risk for him. The fixed races had made his crime family fat and happy, but all of this was thrown into chaos when he lost the super bet against that Jak boy. He thought it a great waste of life to kill off the entire team, especially the beauties that had taken to the sport; he only wanted that boy to be out of the picture. So he donned his darkest personage and recorded the message to get that girl and her blasted golden boy to quit while they were ahead (and they _were_ ahead, by a single point.) But the message would not be delivered until necessary. Blitz had told Razer to visit Jak sometime before the race and give the boy a scare that the champion would be back behind the wheel. Blitz would be through with warnings after the message was played for the entire world to see. It was a nasty business when another crime lord existed in the immediate area.

This was why Blitz wanted to win Krew's daughter over, claim her land and men, own her money and property; have _her_. He did not object to having _that_ shapely body between his satin sheets.

He thought of her smiling as she watched his face on screen. That it was she who sought after him with more passion than he for her. That she wanted to join their powers to become a single, great crime family—the greatest in all the world.

But…

If she refused, then he would begrudgingly give her up for the greater good. Alive or deceased, he would own his arch-enemies' assets. All of them. He was aware of the ladies that were involved in crime; they could tend to be more ruthless than men with their worldly wiles. And if she was anything like her father, even to the slightest degree, she would sustain a trait of treachery. But subduing that type of woman was half the fun, wasn't it?

The door behind the reporter hissed open and heavy footsteps approached the balcony. Blitz did not have to turn to know who had come.

"I found your girl, Mizo. She proved very…reluctant for an interview."

Razer had entered the room and came to stand beside his boss, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I don't think I care for your choice in women. Body of a goddess, but tongue of a snake, that one. She would slip a knife into your back so softly, you would not even realize it's there until it's too late." He took a drag and exhaled. "Besides, you're eighteen years her senior, why not leave her to a younger suitor to suffer after her?"

Blitz glanced in irritation over at his subordinate, insulted.

"Like you?"

"Haha, no. I believe her to be the betraying type, just like her father." Razer tapped the ashes off the end of his cigarette. "I will not lie, she does have her assets…" he trailed off, no doubt to imagine those long legs of hers. "She may be good for a night or two of pleasure, but I would expect to be left dead on the bed in the morning."

"You've just got to love those proper women who have a wild side…it would be more sport than chore to tame her." Blitz grinned out over the city as he gripped at the stone railing of the balcony. Razer shrugged and flicked his finished cigarette over the edge.

"If you say so."

"I know so." Blitz paused to allow this smug fact soak the air before clapping his hands together. "So! Are you ready for the big race?"

"More than I'll ever be. I can hardly wait to take that little upstart out of the competition."

"Good, good! Now you run along and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Razer nodded and turned about, heading for the enveloping darkness of his own chambers and sleep. Blitz watched his prized racer until the door shut behind him. It was absolutely critical Razer beat that boy before the grand championship cup began. Still, he was going to use that prerecorded message to dissuade Krew's team before the race even started that fateful morning. If it worked, he would win himself two trophies: the Kras City Grand Championship cup and Krew's lovely daughter.

He would have them both, or he would eliminate the rivalry for each.

Starting with Jak.

* * *

**Author's Note: Another chapter down! I revised this to exhaustion (i.e. I feel asleep after) and, with help from a family member, got it done. Unfortunately, I have not yet written out the third--though the images for it still blaze across my mind. The only thing I've done for the third and last chapter, was a short dialogue between Rayn and Razer before the Blue Eco Cup race. It's positively delicious, if I do say so myself! (I hope I can sit down and write it out soon.)**

**Really the only thing supporting my conviction of G.T.'s fascination with Rayn is that glance he gives her towards the beginning of the game: "This is showbusiness boys! And girls." That, and her family is a grave competitor for the city. I figure he knew who she was right from the get go. How unfortunate Rayn could not say the same for him; but then we wouldn't have much of a game!**

**Once again, I hope I got my characters pretty well, and I'm pleased with Rayn's "performance" in this chapter. Haha! I couldn't think of a name for a butler and Winston is just overused I think. So I stubbornly clung to Gerard. My cross between Jeeves and a St. Bernard.**

**That last chapter is easily going to be longest by far--and possibly a long delay because of it. But please stick with me--reviews are always encouraging! **

**Blackfire 18**


	3. Unrequited Replacement

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 3: Unrequited Replacement**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

Rayn sat reclined at the mini-bar adjacent to the main cabin of the mobile garage; her eyes staring unfocused at the opposite wall as she idly twisted the stem of a wine glass between two fingers. Taking the glass, she swished the red liquid inside to rekindle its heady fragrance before raising it to her lips. The wine burned on the way down. She shut her eyes a moment to savor it. It was a particularly good vintage and one she usually saved for a celebratory occasion, but she had broken into it early to steady her nerves.

She had not yet informed the team of her intent for tomorrow's race. Though she had already authorized and sent her application to replace Ashelin, she thought it more prudent if she only told the racers who were preparing for the event that morning, rather than everyone present. The Wastelander, Sig, a right hand man to her father, had volunteered for the challenge against Razer. Then of course, there was Jak.

She knew she would certainly have to tell Jak, if not Sig, of her intentions between now and the race, but could not be sure when would be the best time. She had bit her lip after the meeting and spoke to Sig and (hesitantly) Ashelin, to meet her in the garage in an hour, but she found she could not confront Jak with her plans; and now here she hid away in the mini-bar with a freshly opened bottle of wine, trying to align her thoughts. The meeting could easily be avoided in lieu of other things, but she feared keeping the truth from her teammates would not sit well with them. She smiled ironically as she took another sip of wine.

Rayn expected Jak, in his desire to protect, to have talked her out of the race. He didn't understand how much rested on their success for this third Grand Prix and the final standings for the Championship cup. A lot rested on his broad shoulders and it did not entail just simply winning the provisions of antidote to her father's poison. Rayn glanced sharply at her glass with narrowed eyes.

_Father._

Her father had promised her the city, whether she wanted it or not. Yes, she supposed wielding power on that scale would have had its perks, but she had learned long ago that everything came with a price. Simple leisure's would take a back seat to the business—a day at the track would be constantly disrupted by competing brokers, vacations cut in half due to a bankruptcy, even the quiet moments to enjoy a bath would undoubtedly be interrupted by some visitor on her doorstep. And yet, she enjoyed the thought of controlling the masses.

She had had a fist of power at the academy, learning, along with her academics, a way with words and persuasion as she fine-tuned her skills as actress. The capacity to ruin any who opposed her was thrilling. Where tender negotiations did not work on rebellious individuals, she did not hesitate to give the order for a purposeful _accident_ to befall them. Her power and followers rose through the years as mentors fell under her control and, at one point, she even had the dean beneath her heel (until he cracked from the pressure and they had to hire another one). Those semesters at school had been utter bliss as students fell head over heels to worship and hopefully be granted her favor in return. She was pulling all the strings in her manicured fingers. Those who were composed of her inner circle she showered with affection and was given their own taste of power, but Rayn sat pristinely atop her royal throne of gold and platinum alone. She had secured her seat in heaven as a devil. And she was sad to relent the powers upon her graduation; ignoring the collective sighs of relief from the staff.

But that had been the academy, a small fish when compared to a lurker shark like Kras City.

There were cons to balance or even tip the pros to any given situation, and there were so many difficulties in running a city from the underground. Being a woman meant she would have to prove herself to the levels below her; the thieves, the informants, the assassins. She could be fierce, she could be cruel when she had the mind for it, but she wasn't like her father. She played the game a little differently.

When she entered her father's office that fateful morning for the reading of his will, she had already resolved not to feel guilty for those who chose to come. They had known her father, known what he was capable of and her hand was steady as she carried the sealed wine bottle and poured them all glasses; but as her eyes settled on that handsome blonde haired man with the stunningly cerulean eyes, her heart fluttered and the plan changed.

She had wanted to make stable friendships among the racers, and Jak, dear Jak trusted her so readily, she wanted to shield him, if only him, from their plight. She did not have direct access to the antidote's themselves and her father's associates were only rightly hers when the final race had been won. Until that time, her supposed henchmen were suspended in limbo and free to come and go as they saw fit, though most stayed to witness the outcome of the race. Yet as the season drew to a close and confidence in Krew's daughter soared, so did her number in supporters.

Still they were not enough.

If she could somehow grasp control of Mizo's forces before the end of the race, then she would undoubtedly win the cup hands down, but some remained ever loyal to Mizo for whatever reasons. Rayn again stared solemnly at her blood-red drink. Blackmail. Deplorable a character as Mizo was, he had ranks of men behind him. And though Rayn wouldn't readily admit it for recording or quotation, Razer had his merits. He would be a powerful ally and unstoppable force on the track if she could only win him over—if he didn't act like a smarmy, insufferable git. Perhaps if his charm were more geared towards being well, charming, and not mocking…The memory of Razer pressing her back to the wall close enough to brush noses made her throat tighten.

Rayn shook her head lightly and threw back another gulp of wine, refocusing her thoughts back to Jak instead. Repressing the shiver she had to convince herself for the second time to be repulsion and nothing more, she allowed Jak's image to replace the simpering Razer. So much relied on him and much of it was at her stake.

He did not fully understand the risks…did not understand how pitilessly Razer cheated. But she knew. Razer's talent had been hidden to her team until this moment and he was as cutthroat on the track as he was in the bar. But then, no one knew of her racing prowess either. She had demanded that a racing team be put into operation at the academy; a weakness for her love of the sport, inherited from her father. Many had joined and many more dropped out again from injury. She had studied the competition and pinned a singularly murderous weakness to either team—was just that. Neither cooperated as a team.

Luckily, Jak had pulled ahead for her team for nearly every race and had such a high standing among the rally of racers. If it had not been for his rough skill…Rayn did not want to think about the alternative. Sig was also an excellent racer who did not search for glory, but backed Jak in nearly every event they were put together. Rayn felt very comfortable to be racing alongside both men and the three of them would make an undefeatable team. She chose to take Ashelin's place in the latter's solemn vow of mistrusting her life to any other than herself. Though the fierce red-headed woman's heart was in the right place, that specific attitude would see her to an early demise. Razer singled out and destroyed solitary vehicles with flourish, and Ashelin drove alone.

But tomorrow, yes, tomorrow; Rayn would race with the powerful Jak and Sig and they would all work together as a unit to victory.

Rayn took another sip of wine as though to congratulate herself early for the foolproof plan.

Now all that was left was when to inform her team…

"Hey Rayn." A young, but deep voice announced coolly across the room. Rayn looked up to see none other than Jak as he walked in and took a seat opposite her on the table.

"Hello." She smiled warmly at him and deliberately touched the base rim of the wine glass. "Would you care for one?"

His eyes drifted from the glass half-filled with red liquid and cut back up to hers; his small smile was strained.

"No, thanks."

"Oh yes, of course." She chuckled quietly and rolled her eyes to one side in embarrassed shame, her fingers absently twisting at the stem of the glass once more. "I am still terribly sorry about that." Her smile weakened to an apologetic one as she looked back to him. Jak shook his head.

"No, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known." He said.

"No, I couldn't have." She agreed softly.

They fell silent. Rayn boldly raised the glass to her lips and, feeling Jak's eyes on her, drank slowly. She watched him over the rim of her glass with lowered lids. _You don't know what you're missing_. Jak looked away and she smiled to herself, he was much too precious. The woman sat forward in her seat as she set the glass down to study her companion, her elbows resting on the table and her fingers laced before her mouth. Rayn tinkered with the idea to tell Jak now, while she had him alone. She wondered what his initial reaction would be, surprise? Disbelief? Anger? Would he talk her down? Would he encourage her? Ask what vehicle she planned to race in?

She smiled as she imagined any of these expressions flitting across Jak's handsome face; she barely realized Jak was now studying her with a curious gaze.

"What?" he said a little gruffly, thinking that perhaps his sentiment had suddenly made him a teddy bear in Rayn's eyes. Rayn shook her head lightly, not taking her eyes from him except to blink.

"I'm just imagining our victory tomorrow." Her voice was soft and sweet. "You'll win, Jak. I just know you will."

His smile swelled with pride. "Thanks."

Rayn wanted nothing more than to share her idea's with him that instant, or reach across the table to where one of his hands lay still and just hold to some part of him. She wanted to touch the enigma that sat just across from her and was helping to make all her visions of grandeur a reality. But she wisely kept her fingers laced and simply drank him in with her eyes. Jak looked down suddenly, as though he had just been scolded for staring back at her. He appeared faintly ashamed and Rayn's hands slipped from her mouth to rest on the table instead.

Jak stood up and seemed to shrug off his unexplainable displeasure and he was smiling again, though the warmth they had just shared escaped him. He was striding out the door now, unable to meet her eyes.

"Get some sleep."

Rayn was perplexed over the transformation. Thinking quickly, she glanced sharply at the clock hanging on the wall and jumped up from her seat and hurried over to Jak's retreating form.

"Jak wait, please!"

He slowed and turned a sideways glance towards her, but she did not admonish him for his abrupt change of behavior or sudden exit.

"Come with me." Rayn strode forward, leaving Jak to follow behind her down the small flight of stairs to the garage beneath the main cabin. Two others were already waiting for them.

Ashelin leaned against a table laden with a mess of oily tools and Sig stood a short distance off, staring at nothing in particular, his arms crossed over his chest. They both looked up when they saw Rayn enter.

"Thank you for waiting," Rayn nodded to both of them and deftly switched the panel to bring up the lot of cars from below. The grinding of gears filled the silence and muted Jak's steps as he entered the garage behind Rayn. Gradually, a car peeked into view from the depths; a two-toned green Firebat. It was a combat vehicle best known for its speed and acceleration, at the top of its class, if one could overlook how poorly sapped it was of armored plates. Rayn swallowed a bout of rising embarrassment at how immaculate the car looked, like it had never been driven out of the dealership. She couldn't even see the dent she had made in the door on her first drive. Gerard had polished it up much too well. Steeling herself, Rayn walked up to the vehicle and fondly placed a hand on its roll bar, turning back to face the group who watched her curiously.

She took a breath.

"I plan to race tomorrow."

Shock was quickly consumed by rejection.

"What are you saying?"

"Who decided this?"

"You plan to _what?_"

Rayn took another breath, her grip unconsciously tensing below the roof panel.

"You've all been risking your lives and I don't just want to stand idle on the sidelines anymore. I think I could be of better help for the team as a racer and not just as coordinator. And I feel responsible for placing you all in this mess. I…I didn't know that my…my father would—"

"You can't race." Jak cut across her, his eyes hard. "It would be too dangerous."

"I wasn't aware," Rayn raised her eyebrows lightly and Jak's eyes narrowed faintly, a frown pressing into the corner of his mouth. "I'm not new to the sport," she continued into the quiet, "we had a racing team at the academy."

"Aren't we spoiled?" Ashelin spoke up brazenly, her green gaze could have set fire to Rayn's jacket; and the latter did her best to bite back a similar scathing retort about the wealthy Baron's daughter.

"You can't." Jak said adamantly. "It's already late in the season and this is a Grand Prix race. It's too risky."

"It's already been finalized." She replied back sternly and this effectively silenced the room. Rejection was replaced with outright anger; why had she gone ahead without their consent as a team? "I'm in the race tomorrow morning."

Ashelin was the first to recover.

"And who did you replace?" She demanded hotly. Rayn met her gaze.

"You."

Ashelin's eyes opened wide as her arms slid from the cross over her chest. She furiously advanced on the other woman, but Rayn held her ground, raising her chin slightly in defiance.

"How dare you, you little—" But an arm suddenly barred her way. Ashelin glared hard at Jak from stopping a righteous punishment from taking place, but Jak's eyes were set firmly on Rayn.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he said.

"I've only found out that Razer has come out of retirement. Strange that none of you thought to tell me." She said coldly, drastically changing the electric charge to the air as the men visibly tensed and looked away. Even Ashelin glanced to one side briefly before glaring at her once more. "I know what Razer is capable of. I've seen him race. That's why I would make a better asset to the team if I raced tomorrow. I understand how he thinks and I know I can stop him." Silence. She went on more softly, imploringly, and held Ashelin's gaze. "I'm on your side. Let me prove myself to you. I said we were all in this together and I stand by it now."

Her words hung in the air but no one seemed to be persuaded by her argument. The longer the silence stretched the colder Rayn felt. Fear began to prickle at the nape of her neck; this late in the game and still they did not trust her? She would race tomorrow, there was no questioning that, but it seemed she would be alone in her endeavors. Razer hunted the lost lambs.

"She can race, Jak."

Everyone looked to the dark-skinned Wastelander who had stood by silently until now. "I've seen it."

"How do you know?" Jak asked. Sig exhaled towards the ground, as though he knew this moment to come to his previous boss' defense would arise at some point.

"Sometimes Krew would go off on business and I would watch over her." Sig nodded in Rayn's direction, straying long enough to catch a small smile from her before looking to Jak. "And Krew, being who he was in Haven City, would have exclusive use to the track there and a scrap-load of cars for it. I wasn't about to miss my chance with those beauties! So every once and awhile, she and I would head down to the arena and race." Sig shrugged. "She has skill."

Jak was unconvinced.

"But this isn't just doing laps around the track. This will be dangerous. She could be killed." Jak shot back with a vague wave towards the criminal's daughter, but Sig was no longer looking at him.

"She can handle it."

Jak followed Sig's gaze to Rayn, who smiled modestly, but not without determination. He studied the woman who stood so steadily beside her car and she did not flinch from his hard gaze. Sig was telling the truth. She was telling the truth. She could race.

Jak glanced back at Sig then Ashelin, unwilling to admit defeat, but everyone was watching him—waiting for his decision. He hated it when the choice was left up to him, he never asked to be leader. His cerulean eyes met Rayn's once more and her uncompromising gaze spoke volumes. He felt himself giving in.

"Fine." He said with stark reluctance and abruptly turned on his heel and pounded back up the stairs. Everyone's eyes followed him out of the garage. Nothing barred Ashelin from Rayn now, and the older woman strode forward until she was an arms length from the latter. Again, Rayn did not flinch away from the sudden closeness of a potentially violent situation.

"So that's it then? I'm replaced just like that?" Ashelin burst fiercely, her eyes throwing daggers at her replacement and her hands balled tightly into fists at her sides.

"I hope to make you proud." Rayn said cheerily. Ashelin snorted in disgust and stormed out of the garage after Jak. Sig watched Ashelin go as he approached Rayn.

"I wish you would have told us sooner." He said lowly.

"If I had, you would have put me down immediately. That, and I'm sure _she_ would have given me a black eye." She said matter-of-factly. Sig reluctantly nodded agreement. She touched his arm. "I've seen you and Jak on the track. You work together out there and that is where our success lies. I won't fail you."

Sig clapped her shoulder.

"I know you won't." Rayn beamed up at him; an expression he remembered from when she had proclaimed her desire to race as a child long ago. "Get some sleep, all right?"

Her eyes followed Sig as he went out with a quietly muttered: "That went well," before turning back to her vehicle, fondly brushing a hand over its roll-bar and hood. It had been freshly waxed and felt impossibly smooth.

"I'll be ridiculed for this tomorrow, Gerard. What were you thinking?" she chuckled quietly to herself. "Well old girl, this is going to be the ride of our lives. Keep strong for me." The nervousness Rayn had been suppressing for the race had fluttered up like a nervous bird in her chest and it did not dissipate when she pressed the button to return the car to the lot. Mounting the stairs, she watched her Firebat dip out of sight and soberly thought of all the sleep she would lose tonight.

She turned out the lights.

* * *

**Author's Note: I lied! I lied, I lied! There will be one more chapter and an epilogue! So tell Rayn to share the wine, it's something to celebrate. In all honesty, I could have reduced this entire chapter to a single sentence that Rayn could have mused to herself, but as the British say, it just isn't done. So, I've uh, really expanded that sentence! A ton of revision went into this chapter and I had a long moment for Rayn to think there (which I sincerely hope wasn't just rambling blather), that I didn't add in until my second (or was it third?) revision. I suppose I wanted to play with her background a little and personal preference to tyrants. Haha! **

**The next chapter, which was supposed to be this one, has the scene I've been dying to write and a lot more Razer than...this chapter had. sheepish smile I promise he will be more prolific in the next one! Might even give him a musing equal to Rayn's here...**

**As I think I've stated before, I do have the dialogue for the next chapter mostly finished, I just need to write out the rest, but it could still take some time. That, and I've been caught up in "_A Taste for Blackmail_" by RenjiLuvah. It's a _superb_ story, if you haven't read it already, you must do so now! So between reading and writing, I hope to get another chapter up before months end. Wish me luck!**

**Please review!!**

**Blackfire 18**


	4. A History of Crime

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 4: A History of Crime**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

The door closed behind Razer as he casually slipped out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a black leather lounge chair. He took the last cigarette out of its pack, having smoked twice as much than usual for all the proceedings that day, and lit it as he walked towards the small kitchen, stooping to retrieve a wine bottle from a refrigerator specially designed to chill wine, and slammed it shut once more. He didn't want to admit how strained he felt that moment as he filled a tall glass with the drink and gulped it down in one breath. It was a damned shame alcohol took so long to numb him as compared to his younger days. Kicking off his boots he collapsed back into the leather chair rubbing his temple with his free hand.

Razer remembered Krew's daughter clearly and the conversation they had just shared beneath the overpass. She was beautiful…and looked so much like _her_. Though the young woman lacked some of the flawless qualities and perfected aptitude endowed her—the two were very similar. Razer swallowed a mouth void of wine.

It had been unusually hard to lie to Mizo that evening, having no real need to before, and though he was skilled at it, the brief conversation left him feeling strangely annulled. It was at times like these he wanted his own place somewhere away from the crime lord, but Mizo had insisted the racer be kept close. Naturally, Razer had no choice but to agree. The issue still grated under Razer's skin, but he had to be thankful he had his own living space in a wing of the mansion disguised as a private studio. Cutter, Shiv, and Edje all had to share a floor and be content with it.

Razer took a long drag and let the smoke clear his mind. His irritation with Mizo was replaced nearly as quickly with an image of the girl…

The memories were welling up in Razer like a flood and pouring wine into the steady downpour did not seem to help. Krew's daughter; Krew's little princess. He had met her even before their intimate conversation in the alleyway, and he mildly wondered if she recalled it herself.

* * *

Razer was twelve when it all started; a boy not even into his teenage years when the gang wars began. He was attending the Damien Academy when his parents had been killed for not paying their interest to the crime families. Unfortunately, this was the same stock of fortune that had been funding Razer's education at the school and nearly all of it had been taken back by the gang. There had only been enough to pay in advance for another year at Damien before his parent's death and the funds ran out; Razer was placed in a very difficult position. Where was a boy of twelve supposed to get the money needed to continue at the Academy?

He turned to a vein of crime that quietly paid the tuition with deft fingers: pick-pocketing. He had already made up his mind that his methods were justified and fair. The rich were greedy gluttons who wasted their money on fashionable clothing, jewelry and watches, and underground gambling; while he stole the money he needed for school. He was only taking back what was his, what his parents had intended for him all along. And, sated with this mindset, he extracted the legal tender from whatever wallets and purses he could find.

"""""""

Razer had already stolen from three women and one man that evening when he decided to call it a day. Ladies were generally easier to pick from because of their fashionable purses that hang so precariously from their fur-coated shoulders. Rarely did they ever feel a thing; while men tended to hide their money bundles on their inside coat pockets and, unless Razer walked directly up to these gentlemen to rob them blind, he did not pilfer them. But that last woman had felt something tug at her purse as Razer passed and gave him a long look for it. The lady and gentleman squabbled on the street for a moment as the boy ducked out of sight as quickly as he could. Neither person pursued him. He heaved a sigh of relief; that had been too close. His practiced hand was slipping, he thought glumly, but in his own defense, he had a lot on his mind.

Just as he had begun heading back towards the school did he notice a lone woman walking towards him, an idle purse dangling from a long strap over her shoulder. She wore a royal blue blouse and matching skirt that dipped just below the knees of her long legs. The stylish high heels she wore clicked as she walked down the wide street in a very ladylike manner. A white and black spotted fur trimmed the neckline of her elegantly cut blouse.

This woman was rich, and despite his nagging doubts, he wanted his share.

Razer took care to look politely away from her face, though he felt her eyes upon him for an instant which drew away as they came closer together. The clicking of her heels grew louder as the woman passed him and a fragrance of lavender and lilac made him lose his head for a moment. He shook it clear and slowed just enough to dip his hand into her prone purse, extracting a leather-bound wallet swollen to bursting with bills. Razer stifled a shout of glee, he had hit a jackpot with this one!

Suddenly, something clamped vice-like onto his wrist; stopping him with the equal efficiency of a brick wall. The boy's heart stopped as he spun around to look up at the woman whose purse he had just picked.

"I believe you have something of mine."

His breath hitched in his chest. Never had Razer seen such piercing amber eyes, and these seemed to penetrate to his very soul. He tried very hard to look away, but the woman was so beautiful with her flawless olive skin and sapphire hair tumbling gracefully behind her head in an elaborate ponytail. It was difficult not to stare. The hand holding his wrist pinched so tightly, he was beginning to lose feeling through his arm as still he gripped white knuckled at her wallet.

"Are we going to give it back?"

Her medium-toned voice, accented in the peals of a foreign land, was laced with a noble authority that shocked Razer back to his senses. Terror seized him as his entire body froze up. Oh no! He had been _caught!_ He was going to be sent to prison and suspended from school, or worse—he could be expelled…and he had nowhere to go. Damien was his home; she was going to take his only home from him. The wallet was taken from his hand but the vice-like grip did not release him.

"Don't turn me in!" Razer begged in a high pitched tone that would normally have embarrassed him, had his situation not been so dire. "I don't want to go to prison!"

The woman studied the boy with those piercing eyes like fire akin to a setting sun. Razer gulped, feeling his eyes sting as he desperately forced himself to meet her gaze. Did she ever blink?

"You go to the Academy, don't you?"

Razer's eyes widened perceptibly as he forcefully bit his tongue. He was in so much trouble—if the Academy found out he had made a lifestyle of stealing…the dean already suspected him of forgery. He tested the woman's hold on him with a half-hearted tug; he didn't think it possible, but her grip tightened even more on his wrist. The tips of his fingers were turning a sickly white. How had she known? As if reading his mind, she spoke:

"You don't speak like a street orphan and you stand up much too straight." Her brows tilted down over her lovely eyes. "I did not realize the Academy was teaching their students to steal."

"No, please."

"Now we remember our manners."

Razer nervously fidgeted at her disapproving tone and he dropped his eyes shame-facedly to the ground.

"I…I need the money for school."

Again the woman studied him with her penetrating gaze, and Razer could almost feel the heat of the sun radiate from them.

"Why would a little boy be paying for his own education?"

She sounded unconvinced. Razer risked a glance up at her, her eyes had not moved from his, and he looked away again, biting his lip. All of his justified beliefs were going to be put to the test in this instant, and he'd be damned if they did not win the Lady's approval.

"M-my…my parent's are dead. They were sending me to school b-before they died a-and…I don't have any money. And I-I have n-nowhere to go. P-please, don't tell the police!" Razer was too busy trying to stifle the sniffles that were working out of his lungs to notice that the pincer grip on his wrist had loosened. A moment passed; the silence punctured with the few sniffles that escaped the young boy as still he tried to master his emotions before the Lady.

Suddenly the woman knelt before him and reached for her wallet once more. Her fragrance washed over him again and his moist eyelids drooped; she swam before his vision a moment, beautiful even in the abstract blur of unshed tears, before he blinked them back. Men did not cry and he had had to become a man early in life. He did not realize she had released him until he saw that both of her hands were before him. One held a thick stack of money.

"Look at me," she said softly, her voice had lost some of its harshness though its power stayed, and Razer was inclined to obey her. "This money was going to be put towards my daughter's education, to reserve her seat at the Academy, but, I think you need it more." Razer stared up at her dumbfounded. Her golden brown eyes met his evenly as she continued slowly with a voice that commanded attention. "Now, if I give this to you, I want you to promise that you will stop stealing like you've been. It's a choice you make, and I think you're really an upstanding boy just walking the wrong side of the tracks. That's a horrible way to start your life." She pressed the bills into his open palm. He looked at it then back up at her; a little sparrow unsure of what to do with birdseed. She smiled faintly at him and Razer was suddenly struck by the trust he found there. His hesitance to take the money once given to him must have reassured her. She tilted her head elegantly to one side, her long, sapphire hair fluttering behind her. "Is it no good anymore? Will I just have to take it back then?"

Razer quickly stuffed the money into his pockets and the woman laughed softly.

"Either way, that should go towards someone's education."

The boy was transfixed by how her eyes glowed when she laughed and he found he could not look away from her again, when a low, grunting voice interrupted them. The woman turned elegantly at the sound, her sapphire hair spilling over her shoulder as she stood to greet a horrendously fat, bulldog of a man. Razer felt the paralyzing effect lift on him as the Lady approached this newcomer. The man's limbs were thick and his hands and feet tiny, and he had a small line of spittle creeping out of the corner of his mouth, just like a bulldog—right down to the beady black eyes. He waved a fan to cool himself and it was all Razer could do to stop his jaw from dropping. Women were supposed to use dainty fans…not men…no matter how morbidly obese.

"Is this boy bothering you, Eevie?"

"Oh no, this young gentleman was simply asking how to return to the Damien Academy." Something in the woman's voice had changed; the acute sharpness had vanished for…Razer could not be sure. Affection? "Poor dear's lost his way I'm afraid." The woman gave Razer a meaningful glance that he met wide-eyed. "I believe I directed him properly," she motioned to where Razer had been heading before she stopped him, "so he could go on his merry way."

Razer did not take the immediate hint for his dismissal for he could still not take his eyes off the beautiful woman, and his mind raged in disbelief that she could have had any relations to this hog of a man.

"Well go on then," the man grunted, "get lost."

"Dear!" the woman chided and the bulldog-man appeared ashamed as his beady eyes dropped to the ground. She fawned over this humbled expression and pressed a light kiss to his cheek all the same and the choking disgust lubed Razer's feet enough for him to take his leave. He spun on his heel and took off towards Damien. "You take care now!" The woman called after him and Razer's mind raced.

Perhaps not all rich people were wicked; perhaps his beliefs were too quick and judgmental—maybe he was wrong. There were people out there among the greedy and pompous rich population that still possessed compassion for their fellow man. One had granted him kindness enough in her heart to see him through another year of school. He never forgot the beautiful sapphire-haired woman with the striking amber eyes that had so arrested him, who had shown compassion to a little boy lost on the street.

Years rolled by, and with them a knot of guilt.

He never said "Thank you."

""""""

Needless to say, Razer kept his promise to the mysterious woman and stopped his early career of pick-pocketing for the year her money paid for his schooling. Had it not been for her, he would not have met his best friend later that semester, and for that he was forever grateful towards the Lady. But as the year drew to a close and his desperation to restock his finances grew, he was tempted back to his old ways that had served him so well. He felt guilty for going back on his word, but not everyone understood his situation like the Lady had.

Auspiciously, he was saved his promise as the good friend he had made through the sport of racing had noticed Razer's nervous twitching and dark-circled eyes enough during classes to question the boy. And though Razer did not want to drag his new friend into his dilemma, he came clean.

Abel Greyson, the boy known as the school's best driver on the track, was not nearly as rich as most of the student body, but still had some wealth to his name, came to Razer's aid. Their friendship solidified instantly. Greyson gave more than Razer could ever have hoped to return as he funded Razer's schooling and the older boy taught Razer the basics to racing and the latter flourished on his own inborn skill from there. Their mutual passion for the track earned them top spots on the team. They were soon tagged with the name of the Speed Brothers.

Razer allowed Greyson to fill the gaping void that had been created from the loss of his parents and their shared nickname was more of a blessing than a bane. The boys laughed and joked and looked out for each other, sharing pains and triumphs, like true brothers did. Razer had not been happier in all his life. But the days in the sun did not last.

Only two years into their unspoken agreement did Abel's parents find out about the money scandal. Greyson's family did not approve of their son spending allowances to pay for another boy's tuition. His leisure money was severely cut. Greyson gave whatever of it he received from his parent's to Razer, even going so far to skipping meals, which the younger boy did not think right. For all of Abel's efforts, their small fortune only met half of the bill. Razer was only fifteen when the struggle to meet tuition payment raised its ugly head once more. He still had five years at Damien to go.

So reluctantly, Razer turned his eyes back to the street in search of extending his time at Damien Academy.

Of course, Greyson did not approve of these tactics, no matter how Razer tried to rationalize them.

""""""

"Hey Raze, ya look tired. Ya weren't doing the 'night shift thing' again were ya?"

A sixteen-year-old Razer had walked calmly up to a tall, brown-haired boy only two year his senior. The older boy turned to give his companion a suspicious glare, holding a polishing rag in one hand as he leaned back against a racing car pulled off the track. Razer only shrugged in response and looked over the car with undisguised affection. Greyson didn't know Razer had graduated to paid assassin from humble pick-pocket beginnings.

"Son a' Mar, Raze! All that money I've been hoarding is going to be wasted on yur bail. Ya think yur too slick to get caught, but it's going to happen one a' these days."

Razer flashed his friend a gloating smile and tugged a wad of money from his pocket just enough for Greyson to see—just long enough to get him agitated. The latter's eyes widened perceptibly and he threw the rag at Razer in frustration. The younger boy caught it and moved closer to the vehicle. It was a beautiful machine, a deep, solid blue with elegant curves accented by sharp angles. The black-haired boy tenderly buffed a scratch out of the car's fender.

"Why is it ya can't get an honest job? Oh right, ya won't give up the sport." Greyson rubbed his eyes and Razer laughed.

"Come on Grey, you know I would have had to drop out without you. But even you don't have enough to pay for both of us, and I try to help where I can." Razer popped the hood to his car and leaned over to inspect a gasket. "Just shy of giving up the sport, that is."

Greyson rolled his eyes and his voice was accusatory.

"And ya call the people you steal from greedy and manipulative."

"I already told you, Grey, it's not a crime." He responded in a deadpan.

"Dammit Razer," he hissed, "Yu'll be the death a' me yet." He paused and Razer looked up at his friend to see the older boy looking beyond him and up to the stands. "Maybe if yer lil' fan club knew about yer hobby, they'd stop pestering ya on the track." Razer too looked up to the stands where a large group of girls went positively wild to have caught the racers' attention. The squeals grated on his ears. He was in the process of rolling his eyes when another body standing a little ways off from the girls caught his eye. A tall man with blonde hair and sunglasses was watching him too. A frown pressed into the corner of his mouth, who was that guy? "Geez, yer still a hot shot with the ladies since the day we met. I should have known not to have gotten ya into the race. Ya don't need anymore notice."

Razer shrugged off the new addition to his fans and bent back over his car, doing his best to ignore the incessant cries for his attention.

"I'd be more than happy to unload them all into _your_ little fan club. Take them, I don't want them." He said. Greyson rolled his eyes.

"Too slick even for them, eh? I dunno if ya should be so particular about yer women there. They can't all be _Lady's_." The inflection in the older boys voice throbbed straight to that knot in Razer's stomach. He had told Greyson about his encounter with the woman who paid for a year's tuition and Greyson had teased him about her off and on. The stings were better placed as they grew older and Greyson reserved them now to bat down the younger boy's ever-swelling ego; knowing when enough was enough and the integrity of 'Razer's Lady' had been compromised.

Razer did not much care for the girls at school. They were a petty and fickle breed with empty heads and pouting lips; nothing short of a sheep herd mentality. He had no doubt that the instant he was outmaneuvered in a race that they would flock to the next big star. None of the girls here compared to the elegance and sharp intelligence the Lady had. A woman with a quick wit, sophistication, and a devious glint in her eyes would be the match for him.

Razer chose to ignore his friends' comment, and the latter took the hint. Another group of swooning girls were calling for Greyson and the older boy's chest puffed out as he slicked back his hair with his free hand.

"Well I'm through waxing yer car for ya. My baby needs my attention."

The older boy strutted off towards the group of chattering girls and brushed past them for his car, a rough and muscled piece of work that looked like a candle-flame bending to an overpowering wind. Razer had to stifle a laugh as he watched Greyson go, the girls confused at his own reluctance to speak with them with his vehicle so close. Razer smiled. Greyson had become his older brother in nearly every sense of the sacred bond, even helping to pay for his car. They both had a love for the track that consumed everything beyond schoolwork and Razer wondered what he would have done had he not befriended Greyson.

Only a month later, did he find out.

""""""

Five racers screamed around a sharp turn, the finish line was coming up and this was the final lap. There were no cheering students in the stands or judges waiting to call the finish. This race was being run illegally.

The Speed Brother's title had been challenged by a gang of boys scattered in both Razer and Greyson's class, and pride was on the line—not to mention a hefty bet that could easily have paid for another year at Damien.

Greyson was magnificently skilled at driving and had taken an easy lead from the start and Razer had been trying to outdo him the entire race, surging between second and third place behind a mutual enemy; Dawson. The rich boy had learned how to cheat and he sorely wanted to win this race to prove his own dominance over Greyson—nearly all of them did. Chek and Laud were on Dawson's side and both were vying to snatch the title as champion.

Chek slammed his vehicle hard against Razer's sending sparks and dirt flying in all directions. Razer stomped on the brakes and Chek went careening to one side of the course as Razer hit the gas again, he was gaining on Greyson when his entire body froze. Dawson had caught the tail end of Greyson's car and, at the high speeds they were going, Greyson went spinning out of control into the stone wall rising on the right side of the track. The explosion shook Razer to his very bones, the next few moments blurred together as Razer skidded to a halt beside his friend and Chek and Laud raced past him to the finish line.

Razer twisted out of his car, racing to undo the massacre, but the damage had been done. The mangled heap before him did not even resemble the powerful car it had once been and the fire licked high above the stone wall, charring its gray slate face an ominous black. The feeling of loss ripped through him as the smoke burned in his eyes and stung his nose. And though he bravely forged the fires, Greyson was lost in the roar of the blaze. An eternity passed as Razer stared white-faced at the wreckage.

No.

He would not just stand by helpless as he had for his parents. He would destroy the enemies that took the last of his family this time.

The grief was immediately consumed by livid fury as he turned his red eyes to Dawson and his gang who celebrated just across the finish line. They had killed his brother.

They were going to die.

Razer sprinted for his car and revved the engine until it roared as loudly as the fire that marked his brother's grave. The tires growled across the dirt as the car gradually gained purchase and lurched forward, he flew towards his enemies. The boys joyous cries ceased down the track as each of them made for their own vehicles to escape the psycho now bearing down on them.

The track was tight where it began and Razer muscled through each of them, blind with rage, consumed by hate. He punished them all. He squeezed Laud into a tight spot and held straight until the latter's car met with a wall. The car exploded and a wave of searing heat blasted over Razer as the enemy car compacted to half its size. A similar fate befell Chek as Razer forced him into a yawning crevice of unforgiving wall. The murderous blood pumped through him at the sound of another satisfying roar of screaming metal and fire. His vision narrowed acutely on a single vehicle still ahead of him on the track. All that was left was Dawson. Razer chased him down like a pig for the slaughter. Dawson swerved across the track, trying to shake the killer behind him with panicked motions, but Razer bore down on him like a great predator his rodent prey. He found his moment of opportunity on a ridge overlooking the bay. Speeding ahead to break even with his brother's murderer, Razer jerked the wheel, sending his burnt and metal-twisted car crashing into his enemies' door—forcing the other boy's car over the edge. Only when the terrified screams ceased echoing in his head, did he stop.

The knuckles that gripped the wheel were white and his breaths came in short, sharp bursts. He was not mortified by his maddened actions, no, he felt…thrilled. He felt fulfilled for having destroyed his enemies, the very same that had taken his brother from him. He had delivered justice with his own hands; he was master of other's fates who dared offend him. Razer's excited panting stopped and his smile faded. The deaths he had just caused would not bring his brother back. Slowly his euphoria mixed back with the tormented anguish for Greyson and he slumped miserably over the wheel.

Now what was he going to do?

""""""

Razer did not catch the blame for his actions, since no one had been around to see it, though a full investigation was launched. Miraculously, Razer slipped beneath wandering fingers of blame. The race had been held without approval of the school, it was just a bunch of boy's honors at stake. It was here the boy first learned to lie so well, claiming innocence in ignorance.

The semester passed in a blur. Without Greyson, Razer was desperately alone in the school, as most still silently suspected him behind the massacre at the track. His grades were slipping and he no longer cared, nor noticed that his funds had dwindled to nothing.

Spring came from the long, desolate winter and he was summoned to the dean's office. He sighed. This was it; he was going to finally be kicked out of Damien, after years of struggle to keep going, he was going to lose everything.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulder's up about his ears, Razer made his way to the office. Was this was it felt like to go to one's own funeral? Why was the walk taking so damned long?

Entering the elaborate office, the secretary looked up and simply motioned Razer towards the dean's door. The teenager complied. His hand was cold and clammy on the handle as he numbly twisted it and the door swung slowly open.

Two men greeted his vision.

One he knew intimately, the dean, who bothered him every semester for the bill and needling questions about where he was laying his mitts on the cash; while the second he didn't recognize, a younger blonde haired man with thick sunglasses who grinned broadly at Razer.

The black-haired boy stared at them both and did not take the seat when the dean offered it to him. The dean did little to mask his irritation.

"You're in luck, Mister Gustav. This gentleman to my left has a proposition for you." Razer bit his tongue for the use of his birth name. It belonged solely to his parents and he always spited the dean for using it so aloofly. Everyone called him Razer.

The boy looked questioningly towards the blonde haired man beside the dean. The man could hardly have been in his mid twenties. He thrust a hand out to Razer, which the latter hesitantly took, already thrown by the much-too-bright, phony TV personality.

"So I hear you like the track, G-man. How would you like to keep racing on scholarship?"

Razer's stopped himself from correcting the man for his name as his eyes widened and his hands clenched into fists. The answer to all of his problems had just fallen neatly into his lap. It really didn't seem possible. Lucky breaks were not supposed to happen more than once in one lifetime, were they? Did he unconsciously die on the walk here? Was he dreaming?

"What's the catch?" he blurted before he could stop himself. The dean looked thunderstruck for the callous remark, but the blonde man laughed heartily.

"Smart boy you got there, dean-y." He smacked the dean hard enough on the back to loosen his raven-haired toupee. Razer decided he liked the blonde man already. "All you have to do is continue racing at sporting events and meet with me once every two weeks to a month or so. Though I believe you no longer have a vehicle?" the man rubbed his chin and though his sunglasses were tilted up to the ceiling, Razer had a feeling the man was studying him. It was true of course, Razer's car that Greyson had helped him purchase had been apprehended as evidence from the massacre and Razer could not argue lest he blow his cover. The boy glared directly to where the man's eyes would be behind the glasses, he knew more than he was letting on. "We'll discuss getting you a new car, eh? Something fast…something deadly?" Razer seized up any expression from reaching his face or any movement that might betray him, but a trace of fear must have escaped him as the man appeared to have found exactly what he was looking for. His smile brightened as he continued. "I'll cover the cost for your schooling, room and board, and everything. Even an allowance if you'd like. Whaddya say, we got a deal?"

Razer did not have to think very long on it.

""""""

At twenty, Razer graduated from Damien and went to work full time under G.T. Blitz, owing the last four years of his education to the man, he did not argue. He had slowly been trained into a criminal each time he made the journey to meet his sponsor, which did not bother him as he had already dabbled in the business as a child. Blitz seemed to foster the old hates Razer still clung to all those years he struggled to stay in school. His 'crimes' on the wealthy had been acceptable and he had been wise to strive towards a goal. Damien had bred him into a man of etiquette while Mizo reared him a mind to kill; combined, he was a refined and deadly mobster, smart as a whip and twice as cunning; just the right balance of charm and lethal intent. Of course, this went against everything the Lady had asked of him, but at least he was no longer pick-pocketing. He had moved up in the world. He had a hard time appeasing the guilty knot in his stomach of his new lifestyle. It came as no surprise to Razer when they went to big boss meetings. Mizo was so swollen with pride with his trained racer that he took to showing him off, under the guise of G.T. Blitz, to the next largest crime family to his.

"Hello, Krew."

The pair of men had just entered a saloon lined with retired guns and Metal head trophies. They skirted past a sorry looking boxing ring and made for the bar. Razer thought it looked shabby in its cluttered mess as he studied the room. He didn't recognize the coat of arms hanging over the bar, though it did strike him as oddly familiar.

"Blitz."

The grunting voice froze Razer's innards as he looked up to the floating sack of meat, vaguely shaped as a man, above them. He recognized the bulldog immediately. 'Krew' had gained more weight from the last time they crossed paths, but this was unmistakably the bulldog from his pick-pocket days, fan and all; the same roll of blubber that had received that kiss from the Lady. Revulsion welled up in Razer's throat, the man must have gained two hundred pounds— losing his ability to walk in the process; but the beady black eyes had not changed—and they studied Razer now. A fear born of childhood memory was seizing his spine, but the young man ruthlessly held the tremor in check and met the gaze until it slipped from him back to Blitz.

"The bosses sent me to see if you were up to a bet…" Blitz baited with a wicked smile and Krew matched him.

"If the swine are so inclined, so am I."

"Right then. The parameters are…"

Razer had drifted out of the present as he recalled the beautiful woman that had knelt before him nine years ago, pressing enough cash into his hands to pay for a year of his tuition. His heart had gone into palpitations. Maybe she was here somewhere; just out of sight was the woman he had thought so often of in school. She couldn't still be…having _relations_ with this sluggish, pig of a man, could she? He saw no sign of a woman's touch in the bar, no attention to detail whatsoever. Perhaps she had moved on? He wondered if he could weasel a little information out of the bulldog to her whereabouts and thank her properly…

A movement in the corner of the saloon caught his eye.

Suddenly his heart stopped.

Another person had entered the room from the back office hidden to one side of the saloon and approached the group.

It was her!

Olive skin, sapphire hair, and those _eyes_—they were exactly the same eyes as _hers_. The girl walked calmly up to her father, a slight sway in her step that was much too becoming of her age; she could hardly have been eight or nine years old. She was elegantly dressed in a light green blouse, khaki pants, and laced sandals with a golden earring in each ear to match those same amber eyes. The sapphire hair was pulled back into twin braids, looping together at the back of her head, while a few curling tendrils fell forward over her left eye.

There was no doubt in his mind. This certainly had to be the Lady's daughter. He did not dare think too hard on the girl's creation lest he lost his dinner on the red carpeted floor. He could not even begin to imagine this man touching the beautiful woman, let alone how he had come to capture her affections. Maybe some sort of blackmail had been involved; one did not just fall in love with a repulsive sea slug. Thank Mar the girl did not inherit The Lard's looks. And he thought, with a cringe, as the woman's words came back to him: _…towards my daughter's education…my daughter…_ This was the girl he had taken his tuition from. A mother's intent to see her child to a refined school of class and quality had been passed to his stead. He had heard of taking candy from a baby, but never money.

The girl eyed Blitz with an annoyed glare that said she was already well acquainted with the reporter, when her gaze fell upon Razer. Curiosity and suspicion mixed in those amber eyes, but they did not paralyze as her mother's had; not even penetrate, though they had the inklings of that pierce to them. She studied Razer up and down, from his glazed hair to his tailored coat, and her gaze turned hard. She understood he was one of Blitz's lackeys. He felt one of his eyebrows arch. Razer couldn't decide if he liked the girl or not, even though the similarities to the woman were stunning.

"And who's this pretty little lady we have here?" Razer barely concealed a start as Blitz's voice cut across the room. He placed his hands on his knees and bent in the girl's direction. The amber eyes cut back to Blitz with undisguised aversion at the condescending tone and posture. Razer recognized a bit of the Lady in that gaze as Krew spun in surprise to find the girl there.

"Go back to the office, dear." He said coldly. Obviously she was not supposed to be wandering about when daddy was conducting business with other crime lords. Razer noted he did not use the girl's name.

"But Father," Razer was thrown aback again as the accent caught him. It was the same as the woman's. "I want to stay—"

"Now!" Krew snapped sharply and the girl turned a stung gaze towards her father, her body exuding unfairness and embarrassment for being scolded before the pair of interlopers, but she obeyed without another word. All three men watched the girl go, Krew turning around first and furious at how intently these enemies were watching his daughter's retreating back.

"About the _deal_," the hovering man barked above them and moved to protect the door the girl had just entered with his massive body; drawing attention back to where it should be and away from his precious child.

"She looks just like her, Krew." Blitz said smoothly but not without a dangerous undertone. Razer was listening very closely now. The bulldog looked torn between fury and heartbreak, but his anger won out in the end. And without the Lady to charm him to peace, he barked as he had done with Razer all those years ago.

"Mind your own bloody business, Blitz, or I'll have your head. Breathe even a single word to anyone about her and I will hunt you down like the dog you are."

Razer was not sure which "her" he referred to, his wife or his child. It was here he felt the conversation had passed over his head. Blitz and Krew knew precisely what the other was talking about while Razer had only been allowed a peek at the progression and came out more confused because of it. Taking the verbal assault in stride, Blitz was quick to recover and console.

"Easy my good man. I meant nothing by it." Blitz suddenly grabbed Razer by the shoulders. "Have you met my newest star?"

* * *

Razer opened his eyes.

Was that how it had really happened? He felt light-headed. It was about time the alcohol kicked in, he didn't want to remember how he was scrutinized by the bulldog, and the near spark of remembrance that had hovered before the fat man's eyes. But Krew's little girl had burned across his mind for the next decade and he had wondered after the Lady and what would become of her daughter. He did pry, ever so slowly for information after the woman and was uncharacteristically broken when he discovered her killed by a crime family. The same crime family that had adopted him. Pieces fell into place about that mutual understanding between Mizo and Krew and why these two particular crime families were always at odds, though some portions still evaded him. What gain had Mizo planned by murdering Krew's wife? The only plausible options Razer could think of was power struggle, revenge, or jealous intent. And then his mentor had been so dogged about capturing the girl for an interview. No, no, the alcohol was supposed to be stopping this kind of thinking.

_Damn. _

The knot in his stomach hardened to lead and seemed it was never to be removed or lifted from him. He had never thanked the Lady. Unhappy at the unearthing of his Lady's whereabouts, he nearly turned a blind eye to the venues that opened before him. Krew's daughter. The little girl he had seen in the bar when he was twenty. She was only four years old when her mother died. Her name was Rayn.

Apparently she was now heiress to the family's fortunes and in a gamble for run of the city. A promise made from a shrewd businessman who covered every base when his death seemed imminent. The bulldog had surprised him. His little girl had seemed so harmless then, only half of what her mother was capable of—a different person than the one he had met on the street only a few hours ago. Razer smiled. Krew's princess had grown up and she didn't realize how much she resembled the queen.

He stood from his leather chair, relishing the blackness that edged his vision; he would sleep well tonight and he would need rest for the race that morning. Though the drink had relaxed him, he confidently made his way towards his bed as a single thought seared across his mind.

An upheaval was coming as the battle between the crime lords induced chaos for the underground. He had to decide which side he would stand on: The family that had adopted him and paved the last of his way through school, or pay his final respects of gratitude to a woman—who had given him the chance he so desperately needed—deceased, and her last living relative.

* * *

**Author's Note: Can I just say 'Wow'? This background for Razer just took off! I was planning a little delve into his past, a little one!, and this dam just broke loose! I kept getting these ideas that would tie in so nicely with everything and I just loved writing this whole thing. (Though I'm afraid it's a little too big for this story...) Needless to say, yet another chapter has been added, for a nice even five chaptered story with epilogue. (This chapter was HUGE! I swear, it just ran away with me eloping style.) The next chapter is actually going to be another huge deal too and we can get back into the groove with other characters as this one was highly Razer-centric. But phew, it was a blast to write. Please direct all sparks-of-inspiration applause to RenjiLuvah, whose 'A Taste for Blackmail' had a wonderfully intricate backstory for Razer. (I told you I'd end up paralleling your story Renji'...)**

**Sorry if some of the scenes feel a bit cut short, I did struggle with a few of the plot-building points; I wanted to stay on track as best as possible--though it felt like I was trying to squeeze in some seven mini-stories into this chapter. I just hope there's some degree of coherency and fluidity. **

**Razer swears a lot. And that horrible pun with Chek, oog, my random names aren't as original as I'd hoped for. Ah well. And then that whole struggle with Razer's morals was a hoot--he's an upstanding guy with only marginal Schizophrenia. Haha! I love it. And then the whole thing with cash and sheep. I just can't escape Earth-banter in Jak's world. I used paper money in favor of efficiency, I don't think poor Razer could have carried a load of orbs with him back to school. My horrible digression from the world as we know it. I just hope it doesn't take away from the story.**

**Ok! Eyes are bleedin' from all that readin'. I stop here. If your eyeballs can stand it, please leave a review!**

**Blackfire 18**


	5. The Blue Eco Cup

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 5: The Blue Eco Cup**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

Rayn awoke early that morning, still tired from the long night tossing and turning with only a few sparse snatches of sleep laced with nightmarish images of Jak's car exploding and Razer's horrible laughter rising around her. She pulled a face, blaming the dreams for the moldy taste in her mouth and slipped back into her clothes. Setting aside her racing attire for later, she made for the door and headed toward the mini-bar once more, pleasantly surprised to find Jak was already there with a frothy mug in hand.

Walking in, she discovered the orange weasel that went by the name of Daxter, fast asleep on the table and utilizing his empty mug as a pillow. Apparently, Daxter had not slept enough last night either.

Rayn strode up purposefully to Jak. Curiously, she found herself still unable to quite meet his eyes. So she studied Daxter instead as she spoke.

"I'm out there with you boys this time."

"I got it handled. I can take Razer." He said hotly; obviously still unhappy of her intention to race. Determination filled her void of doubt and she glanced sharply at Jak. Rayn moved very quickly to stand beside him, her palms flat on the table.

"This one's too important to leave to chance," she emphasized and addressed the obvious issue that had been the root to his malcontent, risking the opportunity to touch his shoulder in the process. "Don't worry about me. I can hold my own."

Jak looked ready to protest again, but G.T. Blitz suddenly burst in, flourishing mike, flying cameras and all—and for once Rayn was happy to have been interrupted.

The irritating reporter went on and on about the race and the current crime lord, pausing here and there for dramatic effect. Jak added his own quip about crime lord habits and sewer rats that made her smile before they both turned their attention to the screen where a message from Mizo was being played.

Rayn carefully studied the backlit face and sound-altered voice, but nothing was a certain giveaway but for the large tattoo where the man's hair should have grown. This was her greatest enemy, so close and yet so far. He was undoubtedly nervous her team was doing so well, why else make a message in person, but really, what a coward still hiding behind all that technology. She was going to find him. She was going to find and destroy Mizo.

Why did that sound so familiar?

An image of Razer seared across her mind and she carefully reined back all emotion for the image. She was _not_ like him. She was in no way similar to the oily racer as water was to oil; she had reasons for her actions and a necessity to uphold a family name and business. Surely they kept the both of them in separate worlds?

Rayn had a feeling she was only fooling herself.

_If anything, we have too much in common. _

She withheld a sigh enough to catch the crime lord's next words.

"Krew has sent you on a fool's errand." Rayn glanced down at the table. Perhaps, but she had agreed to the errand. This was the deal that would make her head of the city in her father's place, and she had nothing to regret; she was winning. Her amber eyes caught sight of Daxter when his ear twitched—how could the little weasel possibly sleep through all of this? No doubt he would have been making a big fuss over the entire ordeal and screaming at Jak the sense behind Mizo's offer for freedom and safe passage out of Kras City. She shook her head lightly. You snooze, you lose.

"But we can't quit," Jak said to her left and she glanced over at him in sympathy, still unable to stave off the guilt she felt for him of all the others. His position had been forced on him in the most unfair of circumstances. Jak's thoughts seemed to mirror her own. "We have no choice."

Blitz took the opportunity to cover the floating live-feed camera with his hand and scold the both of them for their obviously stupid decision.

"Are you crazy? The world's deadliest crime boss makes you a deal and you refuse? What does Krew have on you guys?"

Rayn's amber eyes flew sharply to Blitz. What so concerned him, so long as his ratings held sky high? And what business was it of his to ask why the team worked for her father, even begrudgingly?

Jak had stood up as Blitz slipped back into his flimsy reporter façade, coming to stand before the camera.

"If you're listening, Mizo: We'll win, or we'll die trying."

Rayn smiled proudly at Jak, feeling a pleasant swell in her bosom at his words. There you have it, Mizo, we die before giving into your demands. That's precisely what she wanted to hear, and to hear such a unanimous declaration from Jak that paralleled her own desires only made her fall more deeply for him. She glanced furtively back at Blitz who was studying her with a mixture of anxiety and blame for forcing her team into this doom, but he turned away before she could study it further. Movement on her right had Rayn start in her seat and stand from the bar table herself. Daxter was finally waking up. Stretching and yawning, he forgot where he was and promptly fell headlong off the table. Rayn shook her head lightly again. Blitz had gone and his cameras with him and Rayn walked up to Jak, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She had opened her mouth to offer her sentiments for his brave stand to the millions who watched them when Jak suddenly started forward. Her hand slipped from his broad shoulder.

"Better get ready. I'll…see you on the track." He said without turning.

Rayn watched him go, disappointment rose to devour the pride and comfort she had felt only a moment before. Daxter had struggled to his feet and started after Jak, giving the woman an apologetic shrug for his companions behavior before bounding off and leaving Rayn alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Rayn was already in full racing gear when she quickly ran a diagnostic over her Firebat in the dank, fluorescent light and mildew odor of the sewer raceway. Her amber eyes flickered nervously over each calculation; fluid levels, weapon calibration, counter-locking mechanism—everything seemed to be functioning properly for her fifth check around. She squeezed back out of the car to do yet another nervous systematic check on the tires when a familiar voice hailed her with a mocking jeer.

"Don't tell me that _you_ intend to race."

Rayn spun to see the champion racer clearly back from retirement, a lit cigarette in hand. Behind him, his red and black Havoc V12 revved ominously as it was set at the starting line.

"Daddy's little girl going to race? Aren't you worried you'll get your new little car filthy?" his eyebrows raised in the familiar condescending way as he laughed and his gang came up to join him, gawfawing right along. Rayn glared hatefully at him. "Is this Jak's humor? Making his team mates fodder to stop enemy bullets? This race is going to be all too easy."

"Believe what you will." She said as airily as she could, but was unable to stop the lace of agitation that went with it. Razer stepped toward her again as he did in the alleyway, but this time Rayn did not shrink back. The racer seemed almost pleased with this.

"I'm going to find your boy out there on the track, and I am going to destroy him. I hope you will be around long enough to see it…the explosion should be _spectacular_." He spread his hands to the air. Rayn tilted her head down slightly and growled:

"If you find him, I'll find you."

Razer and his companions laughed once again at the absurdity of her passionate statement. Rayn felt her cheeks flush faintly as her temper flared. Why was it that no one took her seriously? Not her enemies, not her team believed she could really race. Razer took another cool drag while he waited for Shiv and Edje to calm down.

"Is that a threat?"

"Team mates support each other—not that you would know anything about that."

"Ha. The glory can be only for one. And if you are in this race, then it will be one less driver to worry about. There's no hope for a woman to win." The bout of laughter rang anew.

Rayn stood at her full height and gave Razer a disarming smile.

"I don't intend to win."

The laughing stopped as Shiv and Edje exchanged confused glances. Razer stopped tapping his cigarette free of ashes as his expression on her turned menacingly hostile.

"Then _why_ are you racing?"

The silence stretched as Rayn and Razer glared each other down and all gathered seemed transfixed by the pairs' vying gravities; each trying to read the other.

"Cat got your tongue?" Razer said venomously.

"This guy bothering you, Rayn?"

Jak had come up, standing firmly beside the woman and her bristling demeanor changed on the spot, but the blonde-haired man was too busy with his own stare down to notice. Razer too, changed tactics.

"I'm surprised at you Jak, allowing this silly, empty-headed girl to race. She'll be killed…just like her father." Razer's voice dipped low with implication. "How would that weigh your conscience?" Jak bristled visibly and Rayn had a devil of a time holding her tongue for the insult. Razer's grin rose to new heights of obnoxiousness. "My, my, Daddy's little girl has the latest model of Firebat and she'll get it scuffed up in no time. All that fresh wax will go to waste." Rayn silently cursed, she knew her car looked too clean. "She'll be nothing but whining at the end of this race, if she can even find the finish line." He mocked as Rayn stood by, silently taking the abuse with Jak so near. Razer tossed her a haphazard glare as he smoothly alluded to their conversation the day before. "What happened to your claws, kitten?" he murmured wickedly and took another drag, easily cutting across the pairs' silence. "What a shame it will be to see such a fine new vehicle destroyed."

"You touch her and you die, Razer." Jak stepped forward, his voice dripping with threat. Their opponents laughed.

"Your little boyfriend to the rescue, I see?" Rayn had turned visibly red and Jak's shoulder's hunched up. She was afraid Jak might attack the champion where he stood. Much as she would like to have seen it, Razer undoubtedly hid some sort of weapon liable to do damage to her prize racer. Rayn wished beyond hope her steely glare would have set the cursed champion on fire, but God was not on her side. "How sweet!" Razer jibbed. "What a romantic story it will be when one sees the other perish. Better share your kisses now before your tragic end."

The announcing horn sounded for all drivers to enter their vehicles, only just managing to drown another round of laughter from Mizo's team. Rayn kept her fury in check, it would be put to good use down the track. Jak made for his car before a hand fell lightly on his arm. He turned to see a smiling Rayn. How she could recover so quickly from the sucker punches of the opposing team was beyond him.

"Good luck, Jak." The sincerity of her words was honey in his ears, but he was too nervous on her behalf to be touched by them. He shrugged off her touch.

"Be careful." He said gruffly and stepped up into his Road Blade. Feeling rejected even as engines roared around her, she stormed back to her car and threw herself into it. Condemn it all! It was one thing to be put down by Mizo's team, but to suffer that same admonition from those who were on her own side—her friends—was discouraging to say the least. She could just feel Razer's snickering gaze on her from her immediate left. She gripped very tightly to the wheel and tried to push all the hurts from her mind. Another horn blasted and the countdown began.

3…

A nervous excitement gripped Rayn, she could hardly believe she was here herself in her beloved Firebat. She bit her tongue to draw her focus and study the light.

2…

Panic swept up in a rising storm cloud. What was she _doing?_ She could be killed! Razer, the championship racer known for his signature kills, was _right next to her_. This would jeopardize her run for the city, her career, her future.

1…

_Bloody Hell. I'm going to WIN!_

Rayn's foot stomped on the gas a split second before the light switched green and she shot ahead of the cars still roaring behind the lines. All of the excitement and fury and panic refined to a single point in her mind. She was going to prove herself to the crime lords _now_. She meant business and they _would_ bow before her will as she had students from not so long ago.

Her lead was small and it shrank even more as the cars came to their first turn. The track was treacherous as the wheels did not grip as firmly as they did on dry, graveled ground. The slamming of car bodies against the wall brought Rayn back to her frightening reality. The Firebat was a small vehicle compared to the rip roaring and snorting cars behind her; she was a mouse with five cats on her tail. She sprinted as fast as she dared down the perilous tunnels, the roars behind her echoing with triple the force as they reverberated in their metal entrapment. It was too loud!

Hardly a minute underway did Rayn come to the straightaway and the instrument panel flashed and beeped frantically. She had missiles honed directly on her. Gripping the wheel through the next turn tightly in one hand, she jabbed at the button to release a small string of spring-loaded chaff. She miscalculated the turn in her flurried haste to protect herself from the projectiles and her portside door smashed into the wall—jarring her to her very bones as missiles whistled over her head. One exploded just before her hood and the wave of heat that followed seared her face. She blinked back the tears that formed, thinking stupidly how she had forgotten to strap on her goggles, and looked up in time to see a red and white streak fly by, pursued by a red and black one.

Her heart leapt. Jak was in the lead, but Razer was right behind him.

She hit the gas and pulled back into the race only to be shunted to one side by Kleiver; she could hear the bark of his maniacal laughter as he drove by. Regaining control of her vehicle, a blur of brown blazed past and began openly firing on Kleiver's vehicle.

_Go get him, Sig! _

Now in fifth place, Rayn strove to get back into the race, her speedy little car was soon overtaking Sig's. She quickly flipped the intercom into one hand.

"Sig! Jak's up front and Razer's on his bumper. We need to catch up to him!"

"I'm on it." The Wastelander shouted back. "Just as soon as I nail this cherry."

Sooner done than said, Sig caught the tail end of Kleiver's car and sent it spiraling to the opposite side of the track to smash and grind noisily against the wall. Rayn and Sig ripped past the muscle-bound driver as he screamed in frustration and worked to spin his car back to the race.

"Yee-haw!" Sig whooped over the intercom as Rayn laughed heartily.

"Smashing!"

They finished their first lap. A blue blaze disappeared just around the corner, signaling either Jak or Razer's car had a good lead on them. Both Rayn and Sig powered their turbo to close the gap, having to break hard to make the turn. Rayn was surprised when Sig suddenly fell back.

"Rayn, I'm out of ammo, but I've got your back. Get your backside up there and help Jak." Stunned that the Wastelander was already out of ammunition (stuffing complaints that the cartridges were expensive), but no longer worried about the sixth driver in the race, she accelerated forwards with Sig flanking her protectively. She appreciated the defense, but wished that Sig had only trusted her more. She still had full power as far as weapons went and two buckets of chaff left. Rayn accelerated after power sliding through one turn and began to break away from Sig, ever closing the distance between Razer and herself.

A surprised shout met her startled ears over the intercom. Shooting a glance behind her, she tarried long enough to spot Sig's vehicle get caught in a flurry of bullets and his car shunted to one side. Ripping up the turf in Sig's stead was the robotic menace and longest standing kill record fiend, UR-86. And he was headed straight for her.

She had hardly drawn breath to reign in her panic when two flaming streaks flew whistling into the air. Again the sensors in her instrument panel flashed and buzzed like crazy as she released her second set of chaff. The missiles devoured the metallic clusters as Rayn gripped white knuckled at her wheel; passing one corner so tightly her tire bounced off the pipe jutting up from the bottom. She lost control for one heart-wrenching moment and UR-86 swept by her. A wicked smile suddenly formed across her lips as familiarity ran comfortably through her limbs.

"My turn."

Flipping a switch on her left, her Firebat shuddered as a pair of missiles rocketed from their silos above her roll-bars. The automaton released his own flares to avoid them when Rayn released a second volley. Another set of flares went up from the opponent in front of her, detonating the first missile, but the second avoided the diversion and caught his rear fender and that side of the car exploded. Both tires popped and the car spiraled madly around the slant in the tunnel to arrive in a stupendous splash in the water at its belly. The stinking water drenched Rayn as she sharply avoided colliding with the burning mass and wings of water spread up from her own tires as she safely crossed over into the next section of tunnel. There was only a quarter of the lap left before the finish line. She smashed the turbo on again, sliding more easily through the turns without the pressure of enemy racers behind her and once again caught site of a blue light ahead of her. She was gaining.

Power sliding through a U-bend, Rayn had at last caught up to the first and second place racers as shock and despair seized her, she had caught up to Jak. Razer was in first place. Everything on Jak's car was empty; the weapons, the counter-attack chaff—all of it was gone. Their one-on-one battle had raged in her absence. Razer dropped out of sight as the track fell away steeply—the finish line sharply to the left just after that. Jak followed a moment after, his car already drifting on its side, positioned to shoot straight across the finish line the instant it hit the ground. He dipped out of sight as well and Rayn followed after.

Nothing could be done after that. They finished as they had lined up, with Razer in first place, Jak in second, and Rayn in third. Kleiver made a heroic comeback to finish in fourth, Sig hobbled over in fifth, and UR-86 had to be retrieved from where Rayn had shot him down on the track.

The first race was over.

Razer had won.

All around the racers there was talking; loud announcers were yammering away about the details of the race, while people in the stands were still cheering and jabbering in jumbled cries for Razer's success and others for Jak's failure.

Jak hopped out of his car as a pit crew ran up to take it back in the mobile garage and he looked over to see Razer swarmed by camera crews with Blitz the closest to the winner of them all. He frowned and made his way to Rayn. She had just stepped out to examine the damage done to her Firebat. The little car was badly scorched on one side and a chunk of fender was torn away, but nothing too serious. She stood and dusted off her pants as Jak came to stand beside her.

"Hey, you did good." He said, patting her on the shoulder. Her smile startled him—it was one of deepest satisfaction, though he couldn't quite understand why. Jak was about to ask her why she looked so smug, when Sig came up to the pair; laughing uproariously, he clapped the girl on the back and Rayn grinned up at the Wastelander. Apparently they knew some secret Jak did not.

"I saw what you did to '86! Haha! A work of art, couldn't have done it better myself." Sig said and Rayn laughed right along with him as Jak looked to them both as though they were chuckling at someone's funeral.

"You took out '86?" Jak asked Rayn dumbfounded. Rayn's smug smile became a little fiercer as she waved her arms to retell the story.

"You should have _seen_ the grotty prat hurling missiles at me left an' right, but I shot him right back. Clipped his back end and popped his tires. It was brilliant!" she went on enthusiastically and Jak felt himself smile. This girl could handle herself on the track—he didn't have all that much to worry about after all.

* * *

The next race didn't begin until later that afternoon, since most of the time between races were for travel and to set up the next track for the following circuit race. This gave the racers a good amount of downtime to review the previous race. Nearly everyone, excluding a still fuming Ashelin, sat to watch the playback and they all yelled their joy at the replay of Rayn shooting down the automaton menace. She received an uproar of compliments and whooping hoots at the feat and she smiled graciously as they celebrated her success. It had been a long time Rayn felt so elated in her achievements. Then the team watched the battle between Jak and Razer. Rayn swallowed. They were a formidable pair as they continuously danced around each other for dominance, trading spots for each well placed blow. It was at once a beautiful and deadly scene as the skilled racers sought after first place. If only someone else had been there to back Jak, many of Razer's low blows could have been avoided—he may even have been able to snatch first from the champion. Ah well, with experience came knowledge and hopefully Jak would be wiser to Razer's trickier moves the next time around.

Rayn was still nervous for the next race; the Frozen Speedway was better known by racing enthusiasts as "The Torture Chamber". The course was exceptionally deadly among the circuits and for good reason. It was a hellish speedway with hairpin turns every hundred yards or so and the racing foundation was frozen solid. The racers were kept tightly packed and this allowed for greater chance at carnage. The people loved this track. The racers died on it.

So it was with great anxiety that Rayn stepped out on the turf only a few hours after the first exciting race, to remember just how skinny the track really was. They had to complete five laps; it took a good deal of skill and a smattering of luck to even reach the first.

Rayn leaned over her car and pulled a small lever beneath the dash. Small spikes shot out of the tires. Thank goodness these were working, that should provide some traction on the tracks. The young woman had made sure each of her team's cars were outfitted with these tires for this race, though when she looked over to Jak to see if he had deployed the spikes, she tut-tutted and made her way over to him. He was studiously giving a last once over his Road Blade, doing his best to ignore a smirking Razer just behind him. A nasty remark made Jak stand up and face his adversary with arms folded and cerulean eyes blazing.

"Ready to lose again, Jak?" Razer dropped his cigarette to the ground and left it to sputter out to its death on the icy ground. "You know, second place really is the first loser." By this time Rayn had come up and Razer welcomed her with wide arms. "Ah, if it isn't Krew's prodigious daughter! UR-86 is looking forward to this race. He wrote your name on one of his missiles." The man pointed and both Rayn and Jak turned to see the automaton watching them grimly with, indeed, the woman's name painted in red on one projectile. Jak and Rayn exchanged expressions. "It would seem actions don't go without consequences," Razer drawled. Shiv and Edje continued for him.

"She's gunna get mauled."

"This is going to be a great race. We'll call it: '86's Revenge'."

"No, no, well call it: "UR2B Dead."

Both men roared with laughter and even Razer smiled at their antics. Jak frowned, but Rayn tilted her head in the air.

"If you blokes can keep up, that is. Where were you when that light went green?" The jovial laughter of the opposite team stopped and Rayn turned promptly to Jak. "We have spikes for the tires; let me get them for you." She leaned in over the Road Blade's closed door, resting her hips on the door frame and groped for the lever, while behind her, Shiv and Edje were actively watching her backside and making crude gestures. Jak immediately stepped sideways to shield Rayn's prone rear with folded arms from enemy stares.

"Very saintly of you, Jak." Razer hum-hummed condescendingly. "You'd better keep watching her back. Who knows what will hit her from behind?" And the three racers took their leave now they could no longer see the show. Only a moment later did the Road Blade made a _squee-pop_ noise and Rayn backed into Jak. She didn't question his standing so close to her and smiled shyly with numerous apologies at the provocative contact. Jak thanked the woman for her assistance as the warning horn went off. Rayn was pleased when Jak smiled at her and wished her luck and drew his eyes conspicuously towards the missile silo on the automaton's car. Rayn nodded and gave him a playful wink, a promise to give the mislabeled missile back to its owner should it leave its hold. Jak grinned deviously and Rayn felt her heart flutter once more. Even those three blighters gawking at her rear no longer irked her as she alighted into her Firebat and the countdown began once more.

* * *

**Author's Note: I lied again! Crud, I don't mean to, I swear, this story is just running away with me. My sincerest apologies--but it's a bonus for you all because it's more yummy lines for you to read, right? Please don't roast the plot bunnies, I love them. Sorry for the huge delay, school studies is eating up a lot of the free time I used to have (and I'm still behind in my reading. Ah well; I have to squeeze my hobbies in somewhere.)**

**Anyway, this chapter was just too huge to slam into one chapter so I'm actually breaking it up into two. At least I finally got some delicious interaction between Rayn and Razer! I've been drooling over that conversation for weeks and I'm just so tickled about it. And I'm slowly establishing a relationship between them, which is going to spike in the next chapter, so stay tuned!**

**Sorry again for so many suggestive themes, I dunno what my issue is with that, just something about Rayn and Razer strike me primal I guess. helpless shrug It's entertaining to read!**

**So drop me those lovely reviews because I love those as much as I love those bunnies! (Which is a great deal!)**

**Blackfire 18**


	6. The Blue Eco Cup Part II

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 6: The Blue Eco Cup; Part II**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

The race was utter chaos. Jak and Razer shot off immediately to battle for first place once more as UR-86 shunted Rayn's car the instant they crossed the starting line. Plumes of smoke and oil slicks scattered the already dangerous roadway; thank Mar Rayn remembered to wear her goggles this time. The most heart-wrenching moments were passing into the smoke clouds and hearing bullets ricocheting off armored plates from some unseen enemy. Missiles were whistling through the air every few seconds and barely visible mines dotted the landscape. One slick forced Rayn to hazardously straddle a land mine and she was in shock when her car continued rolling forward intact. She tried desperately to catch up to Jak and managed it around the third lap, slipping by Razer and '86 as they went wide into a turn. A chorus of missiles whistled in the air and her panel was all lights and buzzing once more as she dumped chaff into the air. One missile of four clipped her doorframe and exploded only feet away, the force of the blast pushed her car into Razer's. She threw her gaze over to the other driver and he grinned horribly at her as he spun his wheel and began forcing her to the wall. Metal screamed as the two combat cars vied for dominance as paint and sparks flew between them. Rayn's car was fast, but Razer's car had size on its side and they fought bitterly. They crossed the fourth lap together. Razer still grinned at her with maddening superiority and Rayn gritted her teeth as she slammed down on the accelerator pedal, getting a slow gain on the champion when he suddenly fell back. Bewildered, Rayn pressed onward until a barrage of bullets tinkered off her plates once more. Three struck her tank and began to leak all over the raceway.

Razer blazed past her effortlessly and Rayn swallowed a mouthful of fiery saliva—he had only been toying with her; he could have passed her by at any moment in their entanglement. A split-second later, UR-86 rammed so hard against Rayn's Firebat that the rim of her front right tire bent in on itself. Miraculously, the tire didn't pop, but the going after was rough. She looked up long enough to see the automaton race ahead, open-firing along with Razer's deployed missiles—all aimed for Jak. Chaos. Utter, hellish, chaos.

Another trough of smoke expanded over the turn for the finish line, and with her vehicle buckling from so much abuse, Rayn hobbled across the finish line. She didn't even know who had won, or what Jak had placed.

The digital banner scoreboards overhead made her heart drop into her stomach and her body break into a chilling sweat.

Razer had finished first again…and Jak in third.

She, herself, had finished in fifth and poor Sig came up in last place, his car was a totaled mess. The race had been a blow to everyone's pride and confidence. Jak had stormed away in a fury and Sig had gone out hunting for spare parts. Rayn was left alone.

Things were not good. Rayn threw her helmet on the table with the tools and ran her hands through her sweat-soaked hair in frustration. Jak had to get first place for the last race to win the cup, and Razer could not place higher than fourth, or he would win. They needed a miracle.

Rayn didn't want to relive the race, but she had to watch what their faults had been. Jak had had an impressive lead to begin with which started to change on the third lap. Razer and Jak went head to head, emptying their weapons and defenses on each other for a full lap. Her mind blanked as she watched them race. The dangerous dance unfolded before her once more, but something was different this time…Rayn's eyes kept straying to Razer's Havoc. His fluid motions and the elegant, sweeping drifts of the powerful machine were…beautiful. Every move was calculated in advance and every deliberated move executed proficiently. Watching him race was like poetry; every lap a measure of music. He was the conductor, the author, the driving force of the race, a shining star leading the way.

Rayn discovered she had stopped breathing some time ago and took a shuddering breath. Now, more than ever, she wanted that racer on her side.

Rayn's eyes glared fiercely at the screen when Razer deployed a smoke plume just across the finish line before starting the fifth lap. If she judged him correctly, he did that with a purpose in mind and the finishing film proved it. There they were: Jak, Razer, and UR-86 closing on the line as the three were consumed by the smoke through the turn. Razer came out of the cloud on top with the automaton behind and Jak badly scraped in third.

_The bloody, rotten bastard!_ Rayn exclaimed a stream of curse words under her breath. _He cheated!_

Now, more than ever, they needed to join as a team or they would lose.

More angry than fearful, Rayn shut off the screen and stormed over to her beaten Firebat and assessed the damage. She needed a new fender, door, tire rim, and gas tank. Bloody hell. The pit crew had already called for replacements, but she had to wait for the moment. She leaned over into her car and her blood ran cold. A clean bullet hole punctured the bottom right corner of her headrest. Bloody, bloody hell. She stooped over the back to check her tank once more. There were the three bullet holes, leaving her barely enough fuel to cross the finish line. Rayn stood up straight and rubbed at her cheek, her forehead furrowed.

Fuel tanks were especially difficult to find for this model of Firebat, even for the well-connected and the next race was easily the longest of the three. An endurance race. With her tank punctured, she would be unable to race in the final event unless she could find a replacement. Rayn's mind was whirling as she lightly brushed the punctures with her fingertips, her eyes narrowed.

Razer had commented on her vehicle, he knew it was the latest of its line. He had deliberately hit her tank. Was…was he purposely trying to keep her from the race? And even if that ridiculous thought were true…Why? Rayn's hand moved to rub at her temple. It didn't make sense. None of it did. He had had his chance to take out Krew's last living heir and potentially gratify his boss (and paycheck); so why didn't he?

She didn't want to think about it. So instead, Rayn knelt in front of her car and, rolling onto her back, slipped beneath the undercarriage where oil was leaking. On top of everything, she had a gaping hole in her oil reservoir. That needed to be fixed.

* * *

Jak had finally cooled off after a discussion with Sig; the Wastelander had a way with words that had consoled Jak and he had vented enough. What was done was done, and the next race would see him to first place. He knew Sig had his back the whole way, but he was more anxious towards Rayn. She had constantly expressed their need to win the races and his performance for this cup was less than exemplary. Rayn had been right, Razer was a dirty cheat whenever he could get away with it; and the champion was so skilled, Jak had been forced to improvise a few new tactics to escape some nasty tight spots. The champion kept Jak constantly on his toes. He sighed, she had been right about the teamwork too. He needed an extra pair of eyes to look out for Razer. 

They'd just have to discuss a plan for the last race later; for now, Jak wanted to check out the damage to his car.

Entering the garage, Jak blinked when he saw a pair of green legs and brown, knee high, high heeled boots peeking out from beneath the Firebat.

"Rayn?" he said, surprised she would be working on the underbelly of her own car. He had misjudged this girl. She was a beautiful racer _and_ mechanic now, was she?

"Oh, hello Jak." Came the unmistakable accented voice from beneath the car. "Would you be a dear and hand me a socket wrench? Ten mil please."

Jak stared at the legs. He had severely misjudged this girl. Striding up to the table with a mess of tools, Jak picked up the wrench she had asked for and walked back to the Firebat, handing the tool over to the open palm that waited for it. She thanked him as she took it. Jak looked on in amused disbelief as the wrench clicked purposefully then stopped and a soft cursing came from under the vehicle. Jak smiled and shook his head.

"Need a hand?" he offered, kneeling down and slipping under the car on his back. He was shoulder to shoulder with Rayn, the closest they had ever been together, and he smiled broadly when a saw a black streak marring her rosy cheek. Something about that streak made Rayn very endearing, cute even.

"The Smarmy Blighter ripped a hole in the reservoir." Rayn emphasized the new nickname for Mizo's champion racer with passionate fury. "And now…the blasted…thing is…stuck." She said as she struggled to get the socket wrench to loosen the bolts. Jak watched her wrestle with the tool for a moment before he reached on open palm over her shoulder.

"Let me try."

Rayn handed him the wrench and scooted as far as she could to one side to allow Jak room to work, which was meager at best, and he reached over her to unscrew the bolts. Her amber eyes flickered over to him, stealing shy glances every few seconds as he worked and the heat from his body surrounded her. He was practically lying along the length of her body, so close, so warm. She could nearly make out the individual hairs of his eyebrows. He was bent as though trying to give her a polite amount of space, though it was extremely limited the way they had positioned themselves. Rayn didn't mind. He smelt of spices. His reaching arm was so close to her chest that she began to blush, trying to push unsavory thoughts from her mind. He got the first bolt loose.

"I'm sorry about the last race." Rayn murmured, an effort to keep her head on straight and just audible over the clicking of the wrench.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" Jak asked, honestly uncertain. Rayn shrugged to stress her discontent.

"Sig and I should have been there to help you."

They fell silent. Jak pried another bolt loose.

"You were right, he does cheat." He said after a moment. Rayn simply nodded, not throwing the advice she had been telling him all along back in his face, but just that of simple agreement. "We should have listened to you."

Rayn took the wrench back from him for a bolt that was just out of his reach and began to twist it loose; still earnestly aware of their close proximity as he now watched her work. "We'll just have to work as a team this time. Stay as a unit and we'll nail 'em all. I've got to repay the Blighter back for putting holes in my car. I didn't want a holy relic." She giggled and Jak chuckled. She gave him the wrench again when he motioned for it and began to loosen the last bolt when a spray of oil spurted all over his face. He froze in his labors and Rayn laughed, she couldn't help it, he looked ridiculously silly with his black-inked face. Suddenly, a second jet of oil found her face and soaked it as well. At her silence, Jak wiped his eyes somewhat clear and got a look of oil-covered Rayn and he laughed too. Rayn did likewise and they both got a good look at each other and a good laugh out of it when suddenly something strong clamped on both of their ankles, causing both of them to start and Rayn to yelp, as it pulled them out from under the Firebat. They both looked up to see a bewildered Sig.

"I was worried what you two were up to under there," he grumbled in mock suspicion, "now I'm afraid to ask." Jak and Rayn laughed again harder than before. Sig smiled as he dropped their ankles. "So, once you two get cleaned up, let's put together a plan to beat our oily competition."

* * *

The three racers had pounded out the details to a battle plan for the final race and they were all unanimous on how events should be executed from start to finish as they went over the demographics of the circuit. The conversation had just turned to how badly the champion cheated when Keira came down into the garage telling Rayn and Sig that their replacement parts had come in. They both rose to retrieve the new parts, chatting amiably as they mounted the stairs, Sig chivalrously allowing Rayn precedence up the stairs. Keira watched the both of them go; a regular pair of Krew stiffs, she thought grimly. When the talk died down above the garage, Keira focused her attention on the young man below the Firebat. _Her_ Firebat. 

"Jak," Keira ventured quietly, though a note of irritation rang true in her voice. Jak, however, seemed oblivious to her discontent as he continued studiously working on the spoiled princess' car. "Jak, why is it she gets to race?"

The noise beneath the car subsided. Keira had expressed her desire to race since the beginning, but Samos had been dogged in his decision that his daughter would not risk her life, even for a good cause. There had been numerous skirmishes between both father and daughter, but Keira inevitably lost every time. Yet here, when Rayn announced her intent to race (to the select few), she had been accepted without argument.

If only the mechanic knew how Rayn had upset Ashelin. The men had been careful not to leave the two women alone together less they found one triumphant and the other on the floor not breathing.

Still, Keira must have found it terribly unfair that everyone had tried their hand at the race; Ashelin and Rayn included. She only wanted her dues!

"Sig vouched for her," Jak said under the car, the wrench clicking to life again, "and she doesn't have a father here to tell her she can't."

Keira bit her lip, half in anxiety and half in frustration; she knew all about Krew's death and how it had been in Jak's power to save the crime lord. But really, none of them felt deeply moved for the man who took active part in so many felonies against his fellow man—any of them would have left Krew to die. It might not have been fair to Rayn, but that was just the type her father was; undeserving of a second chance.

While Keira wanted to hate the girl for living such a grand, luxurious life made easy by dirty money, she did not envy her fatherless circumstances (though sometimes Keira did.) Rayn was too pretty, too sweet, too polite, and Keira had not been blind to the princess' interest in Jak. She was still nursing a bruised heart from witnessing the two of them working beneath the Firebat. That had been a sacred fantasy of Keira's, and Rayn had stolen it from her.

Keira sighed.

"I know, but I wanted to race long before she did." Keira had come up next to the Firebat and peered down through the machine's guts trying to find Jak's face. She found one cerulean eye framed in smeared black; reminding her once again of the precious moment he had shared with Rayn—one that should really only have been shared exclusively with couples, and her anger flared in her like an exploding mine. The eye looked up at her through the inner workings.

"I'm sorry, Keira, maybe next time. If we could convince Samos to change his mind…" but even Jak sounded doubtful in this endeavor. If anything he, too, seemed happy to keep Keira safe on the sidelines.

"So what? Just because I'm a girl, I can't race? Ashelin and Rayn have, I want to race too!"

Jak had forsaken his safe haven beneath Rayn's car, wiping his oiled hands on a mostly black cloth as he stood.

"I don't have any control over…" he began, but the mechanic was quick to cut him off.

"Of course you do! You're our best racer and my dad listens to you. You could talk to him." Keira crossed her arms at her foolproof plan, piercing Jak with a green gaze as he glanced sideways at the Firebat. "Or do you think I can't race either?"

He stopped wiping with the cloth. How could he possibly tell Keira that he felt better she was safe in the garage and not out on the track? That Rayn had made her own decision and she had her own life to live. He worried about Keira because he cared so deeply for her. But perhaps…perhaps he was misjudging Keira's racing prowess as he had Rayn (and Rayn had shocked him.) All this was hard on him too.

But how did he put all that into words?

Jak didn't have the chance to attempt an explanation when there was noise at the top of the stairwell and down came Rayn, carrying an armful of new parts for her Firebat and the Road Blade. Sig was following close behind, his upper body completely hidden behind the larger pieces designed for Firebat, Hammer Head, and Road Blade.

"New parts are in!" Rayn said cheerfully from the bottom stair, her eyes flickering between both Jak and Keira and her expression changed to embarrassment for having interrupted something. "I'm sorry, should we…?" she turned partway to indicate her going back up the stairs and Jak looked at Keira, but the mechanic was studying Rayn with hard eyes.

"No, no, we weren't discussing anything important," the girl said flippantly. "Better get everything in place before the last race." She strode rigidly over to Sig who teetered beneath the mountain of parts and took a particularly large piece for his Hammer Head (larger than anything Rayn was carrying), and made for the badly damaged car in the corner of the garage. Rayn seemed at a loss of words for this fresh hostility, what had she done now? If she wasn't waging war with Ashelin, she had offended Keira in some way. The woman looked over to Jak for answers, but he gave the barest of shrugs and went back to wiping his hands clean, though he would only get them dirty again in a moment. He tossed the cloth to one side and also came to Sig's aid, taking all the parts for his Road Blade.

Rayn went over to her own vehicle and began dismantling the shot gas tank, but her mind was on her friends becoming enemies; without her knowledge or permission.

* * *

"Back for more abuse I see." 

Rayn rolled her eyes as the distinctly familiar voice. Was it her, or was it becoming his habit to annoy her before every race? The woman snapped a gasket shut and slammed the hood to her Firebat shut without the merest flinch. She had surfaced from her car to see a smug Razer smiling at her attempts to act tough in the face of his adversity. She decided not to grace him with her full attention and instead walked around the far side of her car, keeping the vehicle between them. Razer took the shield as an invitation to advance and he sauntered directly up to her door. He was close enough to reach over Rayn's car and snatch her helmet from her head if he wanted to. Rayn feigned indifference.

"No thanks to you. I hope you're ready to lose."

"There are those claws." Razer hum-hummed. "My dear, if you can best me I will personally resign with Mizo."

Rayn glanced up at him to see if the racer was serious. His smile was still smug, but there was a faint teasing mock behind it as well. Rayn wasn't sure what to do with this new expression—hate him for being smarmier than he already was, or hate how attractive it made him. Well, two could play at that game.

Rayn returned a superior smile of her own and crossed her arms over the roll bar in a most casually seductive way, lying up against the car, and tilted her head lightly to one side.

"Care to make a wager on that?"

A cigarette had appeared in Razer's mouth as he seemed to absorb this new seductress in the little kitten. His emerald green eyes appeared to be comparing her to something in his mind and it was mildly favorable. He exhaled a cloud of smoke that Rayn did not recoil from. The edges of his lips twitched.

"Gambling, princess? Nasty habit of your father's you've picked up." One of her eyebrows twitched and Razer suppressed a small smile. "What do I win when I win?"

"You won't."

Razer smiled openly again. She really was too overconfident. Showing a pride and composure that nearly paralleled _hers_. The champion casually leaned up against the woman's car, ferociously tempted to tap his ashes into the driver seat, but he only let the end burn.

"Not much of a negotiator, are you?"

"You guess wrong."

He took another drag and tapped the ashes onto the track.

"So what are the terms?" he asked, but still a mocking jeer was apparent in his voice and Rayn mused how far they would take this little play act, tit for tat. She had leaned the slightest bit forward and her voice had dropped to a sultry purr.

"If I can best you, you'll have to join my family. Under contract."

Razer laughed at her outright and took another drag, enjoying the way her forehead furrowed.

"Is that all? No imagination. I must say I'm disappointed." One of his dark eyebrows arched to match his resilient smile at the ugly glare she was shooting him for yet another of his insults. "It's hardly worth your life." He dropped his finished cigarette to the track. "Let's see," he rubbed at his chin with his gloved hand and looked skyward, "what shall I have when I win?"

All thoughts of seducing the racer had vanished from her mind; it was wasted on him anyway. Rayn was deeply inclined to reach over and slap him for all he had put her through, but she was saved having to lose face when Jak and Sig had arrived for a last minute debrief over the final race. Razer glanced at each intruder unconcernedly, before his green eyes bore back into Rayn. He winked at her.

"We'll talk more later, kitten."

And the champion sauntered back to the front line, where his Havoc graced the head position on the starting line. Jak was shaking his head; obviously bothered by Razer's interest in Rayn and how the woman in question always seemed to draw the champion to her side before each race. But when she turned to face her fellow racers, her expression was bright; she had already shaken off the sticky, dampening film the champion seemed to leave in his wake.

"Are we ready then?" she asked. "We all know what to do?"

Both Jak and Sig nodded their agreement and added their hands to the huddle when Rayn set hers out first.

"We'll win this for sure." She said determinedly.

"No sweat," agreed Sig.

"There's a new champion in town," Jak grinned to them both when the warning horn went off. The three of them exchanged fierce glances that further fueled the burning energy channeling all of their spirited excitement. Rayn at last felt their unity as a team and their true acceptance, even approval of her as a racer—that there was more than one side to her personality and she had been welcomed to their circle at last. Whether she deserved it or not. She smiled away the distressing thought as both Jak and Sig gave her winning smiles: They were in this together.

They broke apart to their separate cars. Jak had been placed to the right of Razer, directly in front of Sig on the far right of the track, while Rayn was isolated in the second row, on the far left. She smoothly got into her car as engines roared to life. She strapped in and snapped her goggles into place, giving a final once over to her weapons and defenses. A few moments later, the final warning sounded and the countdown began.

The race of her life was about to begin.

* * *

The plan was pure and simple. Jak was to take an early lead and stay as far ahead of the competition as possible—remaining as far out of the fray as possible from launched projectiles and homing missiles. Sig was to take a defensive position behind Jak; providing the younger man with a physical barrier—to be shot down first before anyone could even reach Jak. All of them had debated over the defensive position, both men wanted to keep Rayn as much out of harms way as possible, but the woman would have nothing of it. She was going to be the sniper. She was going to shoot down the competition from behind and then join up as a second defense for Jak. Sig had wanted to take the more dangerous of the positions, but Rayn had argued that Sig's defending Jak would certainly take more damage than her bringing up the rear. They two men uneasily agreed and Rayn got her way. She had a particular present in mind for a certain champion anyway. 

Of course, plans always looked crisp and pristine on paper, but actually putting the strategy in motion would prove to be much more difficult.

Unfortunately, the first bump came right at the start.

The light switched green for a perfect start: Jak had shot off into the first position with Sig already tailing him for cover, and the other racers followed.

All except Rayn and UR-86.

A blast of cold shock swept Rayn as she sat idling at the starting line and the automaton had not rolled forwards an inch. Blitz's annoying voice jeered over the causeway for the two racers who were "stalled" at the start and "officially" out of the running, having now set themselves so far apart from the leading pack of cars. Both drivers ignored the reporter. They seemed to stare at each other for an eternity, daring the other to make the first move, when Sig's infuriated voice crackled over the line.

"Rayn! I can't shake Kleiver and Razer's after Jak!"

An explosion quickly cut across the line and a void of silence followed after.

_Damn!_ The enemy had decided to go one on one with all of them. This was bad. The plan had been thrown into jeopardy. The woman's mind was whirling at this deadly standstill—the robot stared menacingly at her over its metal shoulder. The other had already gotten a good lead on both racers still on the line, but her vehicle was fast. She could throw a wrench into the works if she could just outstrip the red and white menace. Only a moment's hesitation stalled her before she shot off; the engine exhausts roaring a blazing blue behind her. UR-86 was immediately after her.

Rayn was steadily gaining a lead on the automaton, as the robot driver aligned himself behind her and fired openly on her Firebat. The woman snarled furiously, _Not this time, twit!_, and spun the wheel to slide out of harms way. She looked up. The other racers seemed so far away as they all raced on the gargantuan speedway—the equivalent of three circuit races. The race was a test of endurance and perseverance, which Rayn would win. The gap between herself and her personal nuisance grew, but just when she thought she had left him in a cloud of dust, the monster would turbo back onto her bumper, and to top it off, launch missiles at her prone back. Releasing chaff, Rayn wondered how long she could keep this relentless pace up; the Firebat's engine roared trying to stay ahead of the imminent threat as its driver pushed the vehicle to perform at very high speeds. This was a vehicle designed for speed, but perhaps not for breakneck speed at hairpin turns. Throwing the wheel all the way to the left until it locked, Rayn ground her teeth and drifted through a particularly sharp turn, forcing herself to stay upright as the momentum of the move forced her to the right. Her tires barely made contact with the ground in time to avoid colliding with the far wall. She swore again. She was not going to be caught in the same trap '86 had laid for her the last time.

She was finally gaining on the rest of the group. But there was something disturbing about how deliberately precise the automaton was being with his offensive weapons, as though he were waiting for the opportune moment to decimate a lone female driver. When Rayn had closed the distance down to a few car lengths between herself and the next driver on the track and the racers had lined up on a straightaway, '86 launched another barrage of bullets paired with missiles. Dumping another stream of chaff into the air, the missiles veered off course, but the bullets were ricocheting dangerously off her plates in a steady hail. There was only so much the Firebat could take before the bombardment tore through her armor completely. Risking the chance, Rayn slammed down the turbo and shot ahead of Sig, who had fallen behind after an assault from Kleiver. The Wastelander immediately took up post behind her as guard as Rayn targeted Kleiver for extermination; her position as sniper finally coming into play after wasting nearly half the race dueling with the robot menace. Launching a volley of missiles, Kleiver's vehicle jumped with a satisfying explosion into the guardrail. That would certainly slow the git down, if not run him into the ground completely. She grinned horribly, Sig had exhausted the enemies' defenses. She felt a burst of gratitude towards the grizzled racer and flashed him a wide grin and thumbs up to him when he broke even with her once more. They shared the same thoughts.

Catch up to Jak.

Razer and Jak were once more engaged in their dangerous dance of death on the track when Rayn and Sig caught up to them. The next sequence of events happened so fast, Rayn could not be sure she was even alive afterwards.

Up ahead, Jak had spun out of control, no doubt by an onslaught from the champion, but caught Razer's right front bumper and the two men fell rushing back. Sig slammed on the brakes and veered sharply out of the way to the right, Rayn to the left. She shot into first place with '86 hot on her trail. Razer and Jak had broken apart and were racing to take the lead once more right after the robot a split second later. Suddenly, Rayn's instrument panel was alight with blinking lights and buzzing and she released her last bucket of chaff. Missiles exploded behind her, but her instrument panel was still screaming and flashing. Her jaw dropped. Impossible, UR-86 had launched a fourth volley at her.

Her Firebat had already suffered critical damage and this missile volley would be the bone that cracked the crocodog's tooth. Good God, she was going to die. The missiles whistled closer in the air, singing her a hymn to her final resting place as she shrank into her seat; closing her eyes and clenching every muscle as she waited for the cold, dark embrace of death.

_I'm sorry, father._

She heard an explosion in the near distance. So that was it then. She was dead. Curious. She had not felt a thing.

…Then what was that rumbling beneath her? Why was the steering wheel still vibrating in her hands? Her eyes cracked open. She…she was alive! She was _alive!_ But how? Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Jak directly behind her, veering out to her right to take the lead, and behind him—Razer. The champion leapt out from behind her on her left and he and Jak ripped by on either side of Rayn, fighting for first once more. Both vehicles had sustained a measure of damage from the blast of missiles, and Rayn was once again thrown into a cold, breathless shock. It couldn't be. Really, those could have been attacks on each other from earlier in the race for all she knew; those burn marks and melted plates weren't from the missiles that had been meant for her…yet here she was, still speeding along in one piece.

Before Rayn could take a moment to rejoice, chaos ensued once again up again. Razer gave one last, devastating push to Jak's vehicle that sent it careening headlong to scrape along the wall before the champion blasted off into first place in a blue-flamed flourish.

The last stretch of the track lay before them, and Razer had taken the lead.

* * *

Razer glanced over to his right to see that golden boy, Jak, skidding inside the turn to the serpentine. The boy overtook Razer and was sprinting for the finish line. Razer grinned horribly. The boy had put up a good fight, it was true, Razer knew when he had met a formidable adversary, and he knew when it was time to destroy the threat as well. He flicked open the safety to the Peacemaker blast that would completely obliterate the first place car, leaving Jak a simple smattering of chunks scattered all over the track. No sooner had Razer flicked open the hatch, did another car overtake him. That Wastelander. _No threat_, the thought immediately flashed across Razer's mind. The Wastelander was in so poor a standing that even if he placed in first, he would still lose—and he was not in the way of the damage of the Peacemaker. 

Razer's grin had broadened as his thumb lowered over the button that would seal his victory when a sudden assault of noise resonated in his ears.

Razer looked up sharply at the sound of bullets ricocheting off his plates. The entire world seemed to slow around him as his awareness expanded with the speed of light.

_Tink…Tonk…Zing_.

His eyes drew to his right, where another vehicle was overtaking him.

And then he saw her.

It was _her_. The Lady who had given him the chance he needed to continue with school when all else seemed lost and had arrested his affections for it; the wife and lover of the bulldog crime lord: Evelyn Krew. It was her, the same amber eyes that burned with the intensity of the sun—there had been none other like it.

Evelyn's wheels spun over the track, smoking with breathtaking elegance as her vehicle turned, drifted, through the second and most deadly bend in Hell's Serpentine, directly in line with his Havoc. Together, they drifted for eternity into the curve, trapped in equal velocity and inertia, unable to twist away unless wanting death's embrace, but he knew, he knew she had wanted him this way. He was trapped. Trapped by her eyes, trapped by Rayn's Firebat and by Evelyn's amber gaze. His sharp eyes barely had the time to register the streaks of the grenades that had been launched at him as they arched towards him in the air. Evelyn was grinning at him, her golden gaze triumphant. Justice for having gone back on his word and living the life of crime she had tried to dissuade him from. She was as beautiful, as graceful, as confident as he remembered. She had become an avenging angel of destruction. An angel of death.

Time returned to its normal speed, and it was horrifically fast. Rayn's car was drifting out of the turn and catching the track again for a perfect line to the finish and Razer watched her go. She disappeared from sight as his car hurtled forward in the chaos.

The impact of the projectiles shattered Razer to the very marrow of his bones as his rear tires exploded and his Havoc lurched onto its side in agony, screaming as it connected and compacted into the wall on the far side of the last bend in the serpentine. The roar in his ears muted everything around him as he saw the Firebat, carrying the woman he had pined after all those years at Damien; the woman who had consumed his very being, follow after her teammates. She would finish third, but she had won.

_I don't intend to win._

Shock kept Razer from leaving his smoking car as even Kleiver and '86 screeched through the last turn to the finish line. He had lost. Lost.

To Her.

* * *

**Author's Notes: What?! It's been a month already? Where does the time go? Ack, I'm so sory for the late update; I got carried away with other stories that have finally reigned back to a patient leash of my obsession-list and I'm so close to finishing this story. One last chapter for sure; last bit is an epilogue. (Well, not totally, not in a traditional sense anyway because obviously not everything is wrapped up yet, haha!) Luv2Game, that juicy scene is in the next chapter! I know I said this one, but it's just too yummy to tag on the end here. I'll think I'll start with that delicious Rayn/Razer scene, so RnR fans, stay tuned, I've got some serious fan service for you. At long last, yes. And geez, I guess I'm a diehard Jak/Rayn fan, so that whole Firebat scene was more for myself than my audience. (hides behind couch) But hey! I finally brought Keira into the story! You all can thank Renjiluvah for that one!**

**I actually drew up a chart to figure all the points for the last race--I thought it would be more exciting to have Razer place first twice. That would sure make me sweat for the cup, but I've gotten really good at that sewer race, not to brag. At first I wanted Jak to place first once, but then I wanted to accent just how nasty of a racer Razer can be. Did I succeed?**

**Oo, what was that? Jak and Razer both behind Rayn when the missiles attack? What was that about? I'm not telling. **

**I apologize again for such a hideously slow update, I couldn't sit still long enough to type up that last race and it was a biggy. That and I've had so much homework for school...Fortunately, I had time to think about the race in detail during class and this is the finished product. A lot of action. I hope it's not all confusing. I LOVE writing the banter between Rayn and Razer--can I just say that again? Haha!**

**Anyhow, I hope you all are enjoying the story still after such a wait! Please leave me a review and I'll get posting again as soon as I can! **

**Blackfire 18**


	7. Aftermath of the Blue Eco Cup

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 7: Aftermath of the Blue Eco Cup**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are the property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

A sharp high pitched squeal reached Jak's ears as he stepped out and around his vehicle. He had barely turned around when he was full frontally assaulted by an ecstatic feminine body, nearly toppling the both of them to fall onto the track.

"Jak, you've done it! You've really done it! I knew you would!"

Dizzy from having snatched first in the space of a few seconds around the last deathly serpentine from the champion racer and having the wind knocked out of him all at once, it took Jak a moment to realize that it was Rayn who had thrown herself onto him and was chattering away at a mile a minute. He could not remember ever seeing the young woman this exhilarated and it was infectious. He smiled stupidly at the open show of triumphant affection and patted the woman's back, surprised at how the victory had transformed her. She too, seemed to finally realize her smothering and drew back, her face a hot pink. Drawing her arms back to herself, nervously curling a loose tendril of sapphire hair behind one ear, she giggled, suddenly shy again, perhaps thinking she had crossed a line too quickly out of pure excitement and their eyes met. The familiar embers were smoldering in the pit of Jak's stomach again; how pretty she could look when her cheeks were that rosy, but the death of her father surfaced again in his mind and abruptly stopped the sensation—or maybe it was the slam to his back that doubled him over. Sig had joined the pair of racers and clapped Jak hard on the back with a hearty:

"That's my boy!"

No sooner were the words out of Sig's mouth was the team swarmed by the masses; people, camera's, reporters all, and Jak was handed the Blue Eco Cup trophy. He held up the cup for the roaring crowds on the tarmac and in the stands. Their victory was all the sweeter from their conjoined efforts and they had conquered all odds to winning the Cup. Every member of the small team was suddenly immersed in individual interviews and personal congratulations for the heart-stopping race. The impromptu celebration seemed to last for hours before the people were ushered away by police and officials. With the noise finally dying down, Jak called over to Sig and handed the Wastelander the cup.

"You've earned it as much as I have." The blonde grinned as Sig clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're the champion," Sig smiled and glanced up when Rayn approached the both of them. "I'll see it gets to its case." He nodded curtly once and headed off. Jak watched him go, not seeing that Rayn had stopped beside him.

"Jak, I just wanted to say thanks," she touched his wrist with the palm of her hand, now returned enough to her senses to thank him properly for saving her life. Had it not been for his quick thinking under that fourth missile volley, she would surely have been done for. He had saved her life. She was smiling warmly up at him again and Jak was feeling the crush under the pressure of his terrible secret. "I…"

"No problem." He cut quickly across her, he owed her that much.

"Well here he is folks," an annoyingly familiar voice sliced over the air as the infamous reporter G.T. Blitz once again intruded rudely in on their private conversation; he looked livid. Rayn had released Jak from her gentle hold to look up with scathing agitation at the interloper, and by contrast, Jak had never seen her so openly upset with anyone (excluding Ashelin). He turned to Blitz. "The man who beat the mighty Razer. How does it feel to still be breathing?"

"I just want to win the championship. Then we'll talk." Jak said bluntly.

"Why so truculent with the media Jak?" Despite Blitz's attempts to appear neutral, he was clearly irritated as he waved a sardonically limp hand in the air. "You're the next big star. Of course, every star eventually falls."

Reacting quickly to Blitz's snide comment about Jak, Rayn snapped out a heated retort.

"And a new one rises to take its place every day. Why don't you interview your other fallen star. I'm sure Razer's disappointing conclusion to his racing career should make headlines." And with that, Rayn stormed away from the reporter and Jak followed, thunderstruck at this lashing out in the proper young lady, but thankful all the same. Jak trotted to catch up with her, quietly impressed, and surprised that she could walk so fast in those heels.

"Hey, wait up!"

Rayn's brisk stride broke at his call until Jak had caught up and she slowed significantly to match his pace. Jak wore a small smile.

"Where did that come from?" he said.

"Oh, you know." She shrugged noncommittally. "That Blitz is always putting you down, even though you've made some spectacular wins. I just couldn't stand for it anymore." She smiled sheepishly, glancing over at him to gauge his expression, his smile was still there. Jak suddenly surprised her by patting her on the shoulder.

"This race is as much mine as it is yours now," his genuine smile broadened. "We're in this together."

Rayn had not even realized they had stopped and were standing close together. She fancied what he would do if she closed the small distance between them, hugged him, kissed him…She was silent so long that Jak wondered if she had zoned out on him, but her gaze on him was so intense, those amber eyes piercing him to the depths of his soul. He suddenly turned away to watch the screen behind them. This effectively broke the trance between them. The image onscreen punctuated his next words.

"Whoa, Rayn, you annihilated him."

Behind the pair was a hellish image of a combat car exploding ominously across the screen. The media was replaying Razer's spectacular crash over and over. Rayn felt numbed by the image; had she really done that to the champion racer? Was that even possible? Had she…had she _killed_ him? It would certainly have been a waste; he would have made a lovely asset to her repertoire; a king in her hand at poker. The shrewd business woman in her was fighting to get stiffly back in place. It had to be done. Then, why did she feel so guilty?

* * *

When Razer came to, he was being unpleasantly jostled on a hospital gurney and rushed to intensive care. The cacophony of noise grated on his ears and he willed himself to sit upright and push himself off the jarring mobile cot and take a well needed smoke to calm his nerves, but the effort proved too much and he inevitably collapsed back into an unconscious state. It was just as well, he didn't want to think what his boss would have in store for him once he was coherent. 

Everything was blurry when Razer came to for the second time to blessed quiet and stillness. He numbly blinked the sheen away from over his eyes and took in his surroundings. One eye was not functioning properly. Momentarily forgetting where he was, he made a sudden move which resulted in a banging throb in his head. He gingerly sat back and waited for the pounding in his head to subside. The race. God, he had lost the race. A groan got stuck somewhere in his throat, most likely too tight from hunger to escape. Mizo was going to be absolutely furious. He blinked again and dizzily took in the room. He had been given his own private hospital room and was propped up against a large, stiff white pillow. An IV was stuck into his left forearm and a wrap of gauze bandaged his forehead and covered one eye. That would explain his difficulty trying to around the left side of the room. Besides the wrap and IV, everything else seemed to be in working order. He could not remember the crash very well, his mind was so filled with visions of the Lady…

"It's about time you came around, I've been waiting to yell at you for hours."

Razer turned sharply in the direction of the voice and immediately regretted doing so as his head throbbed painfully once more. There, in a corner of the hospital room, conveniently blocked by the gauze wrapping his head, was none other than Mizo. The man slowly made his way over to the racer, a dangerous slink apparent in his stride. The boss was very displeased.

"What a spectacular loss that was; it would have better been worth my time and money had you actually died with your Havoc. Just look at this." Mizo threw yesterday's newspaper at the racer in disgust. Across the headline was written:

_Colossal Smash of Champion Racer; Why Retired Racers Should Stay Retired._

Razer quietly read the words and said nothing. It was not his place to. That amazing loss was not only a blow to Razer's pride, but to the entire Mizo family; one of humiliation and weakened constitutions. Having lent Razer enough time to read the headline and stew in guilt, Mizo then switched on the flat screen overhead that blared the news of the outcome of the Blue Eco Cup and replaying Razer's crash from every angle imaginable and at various speeds. Razer's mouth ran dry. The woman driving the Firebat was not Evelyn, it was her daughter: Rayn. Krew's daughter had been the one to shoot him down, not Evelyn; the Lady was long since dead. How could he have confused them so atrociously?

The grenades launched from the green Firebat again and again and Razer's crash was making history. He swallowed.

That collision should have killed him.

Mizo flipped through the channels and nearly every televised broadcasting station was reviewing the race to make it live forever in infamy as a dark day in the champion's history.

Suddenly the flat screen went black and a choking silence filled the room.

It was another moment before Mizo spoke.

"You know what they do to horses that can't race anymore? I do." Mizo twisted the IV tube in his first finger and thumb idly. "Terrible things happen to patients in hospitals all the time. Just think, a final shocking story that will keep a retired champion in the history books forever."

Sensing a second and very different retirement in Mizo's words, Razer spoke out in a graveled, unused voice.

"Jak."

Silence.

"What about him?"

Razer inhaled a rattling breath that faded his vision slightly at the edges. Mizo waited impatiently for the racer to continue.

"He killed her father."

The room was silent another moment, then Mizo laughed softly, dropping the IV tube.

"Still in touch with that old group of friends, are we? Well then, I see we still have an understanding of each other." Razer very quietly exhaled his displeasure at how quickly a friendship had dissolved and re-mended itself in the span of a minute. "Hmm, I may still have a use for you then after all; especially after all those years of investment on you. Listen, I want you to make a recovery here, and once you're discharged (I recommend you _avoid_ the press, you'll have an interview with me later either way), I want you to take a few days off to take a walk down memory lane. Krew's girl. I want her. Bring her to me any way you can."

-----

Mizo left the hospital a short while later, leaving Razer to his thoughts. All Razer knew for sure was that he wanted to smoke.

He searched his pockets for his cigarette and lighter, only to remember that he was in hospital garb and all of his personal items had been removed. Including his hidden weapons. Fortunately, Razer spotted a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter, courtesy of Mizo himself before the boss left. Unfortunately, the nurse chose to see to him the moment he was lighting the fix.

"Sir, you'll have to put that out." She said. The cigarette had taken light when Razer looked up.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked irritably around the smoke.

"It doesn't matter who you are," she said curtly, offended that her job was being taken so lightly, she was only trying to comply with hospital law. "There's no smoking on the premises."

Razer stared at her a sharp instant then he reached over and ripped the IV from his arm to the nurse's sharp gasp. He swore to himself; that had hurt more than he thought it would. Moving with the ease of a hung-over drunk, Razer snatched up his coat off the rack it hung from, ignoring the nurse's insistent cries to get back into the cot, slipping into it and doing the same with his boots. He'd normally have no shame stripping in the semi-public space, but the woman was grating on his already frazzled nerves and he made his leave, abandoning the other clothes he had arrived in. Wherever they were.

His exit might not have been such a good idea.

The hallway swam in the vision of his uncovered eye and his arm was smarting something fierce, adjoined with the pounding boom in his head, shouting doctors to put out the butt, and slow moving patients made for a long and difficult journey to the outside. Unfortunately the front door was locked with swarming reporters, just waiting to pounce on the once-champion racer. He did an abrupt about face, felt more sick for it, and dove back more impatiently through nosy doctors and elderly until he found a backdoor. When he managed to escape to the outside, avoiding all the press jockeying to find him, he took a deep, appreciative drag on his cigarette. He had sworn never to die without a good long inhale on the precious smoke.

His mind cleared slowly with the smoke curling around his nostrils, though some of the pounding still remained. He'd go home and clean up. Yes, that sounded about right. Take an aspirin or five. Even better.

Then he would find her.

Krew's girl.

* * *

Rayn's confidence was soaring as she walked back to the mobile garage from her father's saloon. The celebration for winning the Blue Eco Cup had left her giddy and more self-satisfied than she had been in years. Even Ashelin had congratulated her on a brilliant race, going so far as to grip the younger woman's shoulder in mutual confidence. Acceptance at last. Rayn exhaled a sigh of relief and pleasure. She had finally made some real friends. Who knew earning trust could be so rewarding? 

She was also well on her way to winning the city and seizing control. She hadn't pounded out all the details just yet, but she did have a scheme to bend the crime bosses to her will; a scheme that would have made her father proud. Rayn inhaled, a pleasant swell of her bosom, all was going as planned.

Passing under the same bridge Razer had caught her what felt eons ago, Rayn's eyes slid cautiously around the dark corners, and finding no little light to indicate a lit cigarette, Rayn pressed on. She moved confidently beneath the bridge when suddenly, something seized her forearm and yanked her forcefully into the shadows. Shock delayed her scream and when she drew breath for it, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes looked around wildly to pick out the details of her attacker in the darkness, but her assailant spun her around. She bit down on the hand, but the attacker either did not feel it or did not care. Her body slammed back against another body with her arm painfully twisted behind her back. The pain of it forced her to arch up, which did little to relieve the pressure, and she froze. Everything had happened so quickly; her mind was whirling as her meticulous plan shattered around her. She was going to die in this alley by some unseen foe.

Her attacker leaned over her shoulder and a familiar smell of spices and smoke washed over her. Her eyes went wide at the hot voice over her ear.

"You should stop strolling around alone at night. You could be hurt, princess."

She could not stop from trembling lightly in his grasp. Of all the people, he had to be the worst to be caught by. He must still be furious for losing the race because of her and now he was here to deal out his just revenge. He was surely going to kill her for his disgrace that day; to remedy the shame. She was going to die by the hands of the man she had so wanted to possess. It seemed an eternity he just held her captive against him, with no sound but her labored breaths as she desperately tried to calm herself, to little avail. It was as though he were reveling their closeness and, for the moment, his power over her.

Then, very slowly the grip on her twisted arm released and the hand fell away from her mouth. She shied away from him the instant it was in her power, cringing as though burned, and she regrouped in the shadows, groping for the wall behind her to steady her from the shock. Her breathing was shallow and sharp as she glared at the man. Backlit by the orange streetlights, Razer stood before her dressed all in black; from gloves to jacket, slacks and boots. She was stunned to see his hands empty of anything to smoke. She forced herself to breathe more calmly, but when she spoke her voice was still tight in her throat.

"Do you make it a habit to spring on women under overpasses?" she desperately tried to sound aloof and did not quite pull it off. Razer noticed.

"Hmm, hmm. When I deem it necessary." Without anything to smoke and draw his attention away, Razer studied the woman in the available light with sharp green eyes. When he said nothing more, Rayn became irritated; why the hell pull her aside like that just to ho-hum at her and give her a vague excuse? He continued to stare and she glared back.

_I'll be damned if I ask what he did that for,_ Rayn thought.

As though reading Rayn's mind, Razer smiled.

"We never did discuss the details of our little wager." He said softly.

"Little late to know what you've gotten yourself into isn't it?" she said. Razer stepped closer to her and Rayn had no room to move forward or retreat with the wall at her back. Damn it all. Twice she had been caught in this predicament, how could she have let this happen? He was too close.

"What's the prize for the winner?"

"You lost."

His expression became fierce.

"I never lose."

He moved in towards her, and though Rayn was pressed against the wall, she set her jaw and glared at him defiantly, daring him to try what he was planning. This was a different woman from the one he had cornered the first time. She wasn't the quiet, terrified mouse trapped by the cat; no, she had the burning amber eyes of a tiger. Razer paused only inches from her lips and his eyes penetrated hers so deeply, she could almost feel her soul being desecrated. He chuckled softly at some inside joke and drew back. Rayn had no idea what saved her from a near assault, and her confusion almost made her miss Razer murmured comment.

"Might make a decent crime lord yet."

Insulted by the statement, Rayn bit her tongue, trying to remain civil with the pretentious racer was proving difficult. All instinct of their proximity only a moment ago vanished with that light shake of his head. He was mocking her. Unsure if she was totally prepared for her own ambush, Rayn thought it best to question the racer while she still had him alone.

"What do you know about it? Where is Mizo?" Razer laughed at the bald statement.

"I spoke too soon."

Maybe it was the condescending roll of his eyes, or patronizing gesture, or just the arrogant, conceited way he said it, but Rayn lost her temper.

"How dare you?" she shouted and he glanced sharply out to the street. "I demand you tell me who Mizo is this instant—"

She was abruptly cut off by his mouth on hers. He had thrown her back against the wall so harshly, she shut her eyes; he was so strong and there was so much of him! His masculine scent mixed with sweat and cologne overpowered her senses. The entire length of his body pressed up against hers and she was acutely aware of how their chests crushed together. Electricity sparked every place he came in contact with her and a seismic tremor rippled up her spine. The primal instinct she had kept tightly restrained rose powerfully; twisting pleasurably in her stomach and rocketing dizzyingly from her head to her toes and back again. She was melting into him. His tongue slipped into her mouth with the dexterity of a snake's and toyed with hers. Her blood was pulsing hot and throbbing in her veins as the primitive instinct in her responded to his insistent lips. At her response, he pressed his body up against hers and she moaned against his mouth as she rose lightly in the air.

Just as quickly as it had happened, did Razer pull away abruptly and Rayn nearly stumbled forward to the ground. Temporarily bewildered, she regained her balance as her eyes opened wide. Her hands flew to her mouth. The taste of him still lingered on her lips and her cheeks were blazing hot. What had she just _done?_ Razer did not see her trip as he watched a retreating back that had just passed under the bridge. Rayn dumbly looked towards the interloper as well, not quite grasping the situation at hand as still her blood pulsed hotly through her veins. Razer turned back towards the woman as the stranger disappeared out of sight and he smiled arrogantly at her horrified expression. A wordless conversation passed between them. He had only kissed her as a ruse to fool any passerby that could have been spying, but what, dare he ask, was _her_ intent with that kiss? Temporary insanity, that's all it was. Of course it was, my dear. And what precisely were you planning? Simply flourish; have to be believable you know. You chauvinistic hypocrite. Very unbecoming of a lady, my dear.

Gradually, Razer's face became more sober and serious, as though their intimate exchange had meant little more than tapping the ashes off his beloved cigarettes; while Rayn still struggled to rein back the flood of emotions and return to a more dignified and totally unaffected persona. She succeeded in dropping her hands from her mouth.

"He's always been close to you, Rayn."

The woman started at the sound of her name and how smoothly it had rolled off his tongue. He paused to study her expression to see if she had comprehended him at all. It appeared she did not, so he slipped her one last hint with a single word: "_Hovering._"

With that, Razer began to walk off leaving a perplexed young woman behind him. Her mind was whirling with multiple calculations. He couldn't mean…

She looked up at him before he got five steps off.

"Why are you helping me?" she said in a quiet voice. She was not even sure he had heard until he stopped. His head turned only slightly in her direction.

"Evelyn."

A deathly silence spread over the night air as Razer began to walk again. Rayn stood utterly shell shocked as the man stepped into the light. She took three hesitant hurried steps towards him.

"What do you know about my mother?"

But the racer kept walking.

"_Razer!_"

There was no break in his step. He was not going to stop. She did not want to play this card so quickly, not without some solid form of backup, but he was leaving her no choice. And by the same instinct that so gripped her when his body had pressed against hers, she knew this would be her last chance to snare him.

"Greyson."

This effectively stopped the racer to a dead halt and Rayn nearly crashed into his back as she trotted to catch up with him. The rigidity of his back made Rayn swallow; maybe mentioning this little detail had not been such a good idea…but she pressed on anyway. It was too late to stop now.

"The Damien Massacre. He was one of the victims, wasn't he?"

Razer turned slowly to face her and his green eyes were icy; she could practically feel her spine freeze under that gaze. Her throat had gone dry.

"You were close to him, weren't you?"

"What's your point, woman?" The venomous low note in his voice made Rayn swallow. She continued on very lowly.

"It wasn't an accident. That boy, Dawson, was paid to kill him."

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Razer's eyes seemed to turn red as he glared down hard at Rayn. She could almost hear the wheels spinning as things made sense in his eyes. "It was all for you. He's closer to you, Razer."

A long silence stretched between them. The icy fire raged in Razer's eyes for so long, Rayn began to regret her revelation to him, when just as suddenly his eyes dulled to a blank stare. Rayn's brow furrowed, his anger had run out so quickly, this was not what she had expected. He turned away from her then and began walking off, slightly stiff but as cool as ever.

"Hurry home, princess. Who knows what vermin might be waiting to spring on a lady?"

Rayn watched after his retreating back in utter bewilderment. That was not what she had expected at all. She was so sure that would have won him over to her side, so sure, but the plan exploded in her face. His loyalty to Mizo was unmatched. She wanted that loyalty for herself. But that ploy had been her trump; used and lost.

She had no way to win him now.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you ALL for your patience in this slow update. (Holy beige canole, I took my sweet time updating this poor story!) I've been uber busy--blah blah--the usual excuses right? Well, they're TRUE, so cut me some slack, eh? **

**I actually had a few qualms with this chapter, mostly whether to place that deliciously juicy meeting between Rayn and Razer that I've been _dying,_ foaming-at-the-mouth to post for months now--before or after the revelation of 'Jak's Dark Secret'. I'm still not quite sure I made the right decision, but that scene was already written and finished--months ago--and in doing so, I'm forcing myself to get creative with how to work around that particular dividing scene between Rayn and Jak. (Once his dark secret is revealed, I'll have to convey Rayn's feeling of betrayal towards Jak, and perhaps inverted closeness towards a certain retired racer. Uhp uhp uhp, can't spoil anymore than that.) I spent a good half-hour just rolling the possibilites over in my head and I think I may have something that will still fit into my story, despite what can be considered a timing incongruency with Rayn now knowing Mizo's identity, _before_ she learns the reason of her father's death. It's going to be a challenge to write. Hopefully that won't delay me too long to update again...**

**SO, this means there will be ANOTHER chapter before the epilogue. I am completely through with promises for this story, I've eloped, honeymooned, and am expecting already with this story. It's absolutely run away with me in terms of length. I have no idea how many more chapters this will be. It was supposed to end at three!!! There will definitely be an epilogue though--that much I can promise.**

**You know what comes next in my note, a plea to please review!**

**Blackfire 18**


	8. Dodging the Bullet

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 8: Dodging the Bullet**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within. They're property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

"Well everyone, I'm stopping by the Bloody Hook for a drink, anyone interested in joining me?"

Rayn looked around the mobile garage's main lounge for any takers on her offer. Ashelin and Torn were sitting beside one another, Keira behind Jak, and Sig had a chair to himself. Samos was not present.

"Sorry, dinner plans." Torn said putting his arm on the chair rest around Ashelin.

"I could go for something," Jak began but was cut off by Keira, whose glare moved from Rayn and leveled at Jak.

"Hey," she swatted him, "you promised you'd help me in the garage."

"Oh, right." Jak smiled sheepishly and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Rayn."

Keira's snide smile stabbed at Rayn, but the latter said nothing. The mechanic had become very catty around Jak, particularly when the sapphire-haired girl was around.

Disappointed, but not surprised, Rayn looked hopefully at Sig.

"I guess that just leaves me. I was going to browse the new Hammerhead parts, but I'm not about to let you go to that bar alone." Sig said standing.

"Splendid." Rayn clapped her hands, relieved that she would have company, and pleased that Sig had grown even more protective of her since their last race together. "I've been meaning to try their Hook and Eye."

She and Sig walked out of the sitting room together and to Sig's Hammerhead parked outside.

* * *

"Put me down for a shot of tequila."

Rayn and Sig had just slid into a booth and Sig had deftly flipped through the drink menu as the server who had joined them jotted down the order.

"A Hook and Eye for me, please."

The server nodded and moved off.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Rayn asked as she and the burly Wastelander settled back into their seats.

"Not unless you want to split something."

"No, I'm not hungry." Rayn smiled.

"Then I'm fine." Sig rested one arm along the length of the bench top and looked at Rayn. "So, how have you been?"

"Oh you know, the usual." She waved a hand vaguely.

"That bad, huh?"

She smiled warmly at him; she and Sig shared a unique history. He had been her father's heavy, something of a mercenary in the business, while she had been Daddy's little girl. She would come home from school and request Sig join them for the races from her father. And likewise, he would sneak them both out to the track to race each other. The Wastelander had taught her basics and tricks to the sport, but the rest Rayn had picked up on her own, taking her skills with her back to the academy. Their quietly shared agreement was a blessing for them both.

"My goodness, you babysit me once and suddenly you know all my euphemisms." Rayn raised a teasing eyebrow at him. Sig smiled.

"Lucky guess."

Sig paused to shift in his seat while Rayn straightened her jacket.

"You did say you finished college, didn't you?"

Rayn had not come home as much when she attended college, even though she had told Sig, in confidence, what her plans there would be.

She tilted her head to one side.

"I did."

"Business concentration?"

"Yes."

Sig nodded.

"Your father wanted you to take over the family business."

Rayn glanced at him uneasily for all the trade implied and Sig read her reaction immediately. He raised his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Hey, I worked for the man. I'm not here to judge." His arms dropped back to their original positions. "Either way, it must be intimidating for you."

She gave him a small smile and glanced down.

"It can be daunting at times."

"Well, it will be your chance to right his wrongs."

She absorbed his words and stared at a point on the table, shaking her head lightly.

"My father has made some mistakes, but I still love him for it."

Sig's expression was disbelieving when she looked back at him.

"After he poisoned you? You're his daughter for God's sake."

She blinked, exhaling her disappointment through her nose.

"I try not to think about it."

The silence stretched between them.

"You can just forgive him like that?"

"He was my father." She said, meeting the Wastelander's gaze. "For better or worse."

They stared at one another for a moment when the server arrived with their drinks, thankfully breaking the tension. Sig reached for his shot and toasted the woman across from him.

"May you be as passionate for the city when you take the mantle." And Sig threw back the tequila. Rayn bowed her head in reverence and sipped at her martini. She screwed up her eyes at the sour taste while Sig pressed his lips together after downing his shot.

"Don't like it?" Sig smiled at her. Rayn cracked open one squinting eye.

"It's bitter." She shivered for effect and pushed the glass towards Sig.

"Maybe you should have the tequila." He suggested as he tasted the Hook and Eye. He smacked his lips.

"Bitter." He agreed and pushed the drink back towards her and she took another sip; her eyes squinting again.

"I'll probably like it more once it's gone."

She and Sig laughed.

"So what do I owe you for the drink?" Sig spun his tequila glass so it twirled neatly on one corner of its base before he stopped it.

Rayn swallowed another sip.

"Nothing, but I do believe you owe me an ice cream."

Sig laughed again.

"You still on about that?" The first time Sig had babysat her, he had no idea how to go about it. The ice cream shop came up and it had become their tradition ever since. Rayn smiled but said nothing, allowing Sig to choose whether she was serious or not. But the Sig she knew was really a teddy bear beneath that tough exterior, and he did cave. "All right, all right. We win the next race and we'll celebra—whoops, hang on." Sig removed a cellular phone from his pocket and snapped it open.

"Yeah." He answered. His face grew more and more grim the longer the phone stayed to his ear. "All right, I'll be right there." He snapped the phone shut again. Rayn looked at him questioningly. "Jak's saying his car just got stalled after a test run with some new parts. I'm going to have to pick him up." Sig moved out of the booth and stopped when Rayn didn't follow him. Surprised, he asked, "Are you coming?"

The shy deceit did not quite eradicate itself in her smile.

"I'm actually meeting someone."

Sig studied her, questions hazing his eyes.

"I don't feel right leaving you here, Rayn—"

"I'll look after her."

Rayn and Sig both looked sharply at the intruder. G.T. Blitz had maneuvered himself into the seat Sig had been sitting in only a moment ago with a winning smile. Startled at the rude entrance, the pair just stared at the reporter, but the man was unfazed. Sig gave him a hard stare before looking over to Rayn. The urgency for Jak, but concern for her safety warred in his expression. Rayn gazed at the reporter, his smug look annoyed her, but when she looked back to Sig, she slipped him a small smile and nodded subtly towards the exit. Jak was important, and he would be in trouble if he sat in the dark too long in this city. She would be fine. Given her leave but still obviously unhappy about it, Sig threw a warning glance at Blitz if he tried anything funny, which Blitz returned with a cool smile, and walked out.

The pair at the table watched until the door closed behind Sig.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Rayn's gaze drew back to the reporter. He had always given her the creeps and his sudden appearance didn't improve his image. If he was artificial on the big screen, he was even more fake in person. The smile he gave her now was not genuine; a false smile for an equally false television personality. His tasteless purple and orange suit clashed with his many golden chained necklaces, and it was jarring to see him without a microphone and swarm of cameras flying before her face.

He had pounced on her table at a very convenient moment, the same instant Sig stood to move off; almost like he had been waiting for it. Was he still doggedly hoping after a private conference? Why was he here without any sort of interviewing equipment? Why else would he intrude on her privacy? His intentions seemed far from sheltering her from late night ruffians. It all seemed very suspicious.

She didn't trust him.

"Short on news stories? I don't believe my favorite drink will make headlines."

"Strictly off the record." Blitz shrugged pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Nothing is ever 'off the record' with your lot."

Blitz smiled at her unnervingly, showing his perfectly aligned rows of white teeth. The server had returned and she was surprised to see the change of company at the table. Her eyes flickered between the two before she gave Rayn a quizzical look which the latter did not take kindly to.

"A double-shot of vodka for me and the lady, unless of course…" Blitz looked over at Rayn with a suggestive eye, "you would prefer wine?"

Rayn's blood ran cold, her focus shocked like a bullet shattering glass, splinters from the wound branching like innumerable, fractured questions in her mind, but she forced her expression to remain passive. She looked up to the server.

"A double-shot would be fine."

The server walked off and then Rayn and Blitz launched into a staring contest; each trying to gage the others reaction and analyze any weaknesses that presented themselves, but both had put on a poker face for the competition.

Though Rayn sat perfectly still as Blitz watched her, her mind was a whir. The man that sat across from her was supposedly her family's archrival in underground crime, Mizo, but Rayn had yet to confirm Razer's insinuation with her sources. Razer certainly served no loyalty to her and he could easily have lied to protect his employer, which would not surprise her in the least.

But G.T. Blitz of all people. He was a broadcasting reporter—a man who was constantly in the public eye! It made no sense that a crime lord would thrust himself into public awareness, no matter what the alias. The move was either incredibly stupid, or an extraordinarily ingenious ploy of smokescreen tactics. This, of course, was assuming that Razer had told her the truth, but even there, she had her reasons to doubt. She had been unable to confirm his supposed connections to her mother either. He was a shady, dubious character, Razer…despite his many chances to inflict harm on her that he did not take…

What frightened her more was Blitz becoming aware of her secret. How much did he know and who had told him? Was he simply aware that the team had been poisoned, or did he know that all in Krew's team was poisoned except for the daughter? Either consequence placed her in a difficult position. If Blitz was just a reporter, he could be bartered with and bought, but it Blitz was indeed Mizo…The ground beneath Rayn had just cracked open to reveal a depthless chasm with some faceless betrayer ready to push her over its edge. Someone in her network had deliberately tipped off the press and the traitor needed to be weeded out as quickly as possible.

But for the moment, Blitz had trapped her in a precariously compromising position. These waters would be very dangerous, even though she was already up to her neck. Blitz would be Blitz this round until proven otherwise. Judging motive with action, Rayn hastily discerned that Blitz only knew that her team was poisoned—herself included. For the lesser of two evils, she would take it. A tentative course of action was forming in her mind. She had to keep him occupied until her guest arrived.

She blinked slowly and meekly dropped her eyes.

Rayn chose her words very carefully.

"So, is this to remain off the record?"

The woman could not ignore the triumph that lined his voice, as she glanced furtively back up at him.

"Well now, that depends…" Rayn's jaws clamped together when she felt something leisurely brush her leg beneath the table, "on how cooperative you'll be." Rayn's shock left her speechless. The waters had risen from her neck to far over her head. She shouldn't have ignored her gut when she watched Sig leave. She drew her legs tightly beneath her.

"I've been known to be stubborn."

Blitz's knowing smile unsettled her.

"She was notoriously stubborn too." But before Rayn could ask who he was referring to, he continued. "I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to have a friend when Mizo wins the championship. I've been hearing all sorts of dangerous rumors floating around, and several of them are about Jak."

"Jak?" Rayn echoed with disquiet. "What have you heard?"

"Oh no, you're much too stubborn to believe any of those silly rumors." He waved her off dismissively just as the server returned with their drinks. Blitz picked his up and clinked her untouched glass with his. "Cheers." He downed the vodka in one breath and set it back down on the table. When Rayn made no move to take her drink, he motioned to glass. "Not thirsty? I could get you that wine you like so much."

"What exactly is the company looking for?" she asked softly, bitterly acknowledging she had been cornered. Blitz's false smile was becoming more genuine.

"A partnership."

_Partnership? I don't like the sound of that. Keep him talking…_

"I think your news set is crowded enough."

Blitz laughed.

"Oh no, the G.T. Blitz Show is fully manned. We don't need any help there."

Her heart was beginning to pound as her perception of his proposal darkened, and for all her stifled fears, she was agitated that he was toying with her.

"So what is it you're looking for?"

His indigo eyes looked over her and Rayn suddenly felt the chill seize her again. Her suspicions weren't far off the mark if his look was of any indication…

"If you'd like to come with me and sign a little partnership contract, I'd be happy to tell you everything you'd like to know."

Unfortunately, Rayn's mind was blank at what he was asking her, or rather, blackmailing her into. But within her bad luck came a ray of hope.

"Pardon the interruption. Ms. Krew? If you would join me please."

A plain-faced man in a black suit had approached the table. Rayn's envoy had finally arrived, and not a moment too soon. She nodded with false graciousness to Blitz and slipped out of the booth.

"If you'll excuse me. Oh, you have the drinks? You're too kind."

She and her guest walked away from the booth, with Rayn trying desperately to keep her stride even and not betray the tremors that racked her body. Blitz smiled indulgently after her catwalk.

"We'll talk later, sweetheart."

* * *

"Jak, what's wrong?"

"My weapons are jammed!"

-"What?"

-"What do you mean, 'your weapons are jammed?'"

-"What?! But I thought we worked out all the bugs last night!"

-"I'm a sitting target out here!"

-"Oh my God."

-"We're in some deep shit."

-"This is bad."

-"Someone get Rayn on the phone!"

-"Jak stay calm!"

-"Where is that girl?"

The racing team had assembled in the temporary circuit-side garage of the Mountain Highway track to support their star racer, when emotions unhinged at Jak's sabotaged Road Blade. The team split into two as Keira and Sig crowded over the radio and stared horror-struck at the television screen overhead to talk Jak through the circuit race that had been made into a death race for the young blond, and Torn and Ashelin tore through their belongings to locate a cellular phone.

"This is real bad!"

"Jak. Jak, calm down and listen to me." Sig said into the radio. "You can win this, but you've got to get a serious lead on the competition. You've still got turbo right? Use it. Use it all. Stay well out of range from their weapons."

"Punch it, Jak!" Keira shouted desperately.

"Rayn, get down circuit side, right now. Mountain Highway. Jak's car has been tampered with—his weapons system is jammed…No, he's racing now! Get down here!"

Torn and Ashelin joined Sig and Keira. All eyes were on the screen.

Everyone lapsed into silence except for Sig, who kept talking to Jak.

The young racer had just punched into first and weapons were flying all around him, from missiles to grenades to gunfire and back again; the other racers were united against Jak and all of them were doing everything in their power to deal a crippling blow to his point tally. Jak's armor took a serious beating. One side panel had been shredded so thoroughly that it ripped away as Jak screamed down the track.

"Watch you left!" Sig shouted.

Jak's vehicle jumped sharply to the right and avoided a full impact grenade volley by the thread of his wheels. He punched another turbo and power slid into the next turn.

From then on, Jak hugged every corner he possibly could, only going wide enough to drift through the next set of turns and blasting the turbo strategically. His reserves were almost empty.

Collective sharp intakes of breath reached his ears over the radio as his team witnessed him nearly collide with a wall opposite of his drift, only for his tires to catch just in time and he rocketed forward.

"Jak, I'm going to strangle you when you get back." Sig said, the stress tight in his voice.

The comment made Jak chuckle despite himself; he had gained a strong enough lead to keep some of the danger at bay and allow himself that indulgence, though he did not stray from his time-shaving, potentially life-threatening techniques.

Engine screaming at full acceleration, Jak was first to cross the finish line with a lead of thirty-two point three four seconds. A half-minute lead on the nearest racer. The entire leg that had pushed the pedal to the floor of the car the long race ached something fierce. The crowd erupted into mass hysteria at Jak's mind-blowing time on the icy track, but Jak was already turning his vehicle sharply into the temporary garage, in no mood for congratulations, or adoring fans, or interviews—he only wanted to know what the hell had gone wrong out there.

Everyone was waiting for him in the garage.

Keira waited only long enough for Jak to angrily exit the Road Blade before she threw herself at him.

"Oh Jak, thank God you're safe!" she cried, hugging him more tightly than she ever had before.

"What the hell happened?" Ashelin demanded as Torn moved to open the Road Blade's hood.

"That was some race kid." Sig clapped Jak's shoulder, while Jak simultaneously patted Keira's back.

"It's okay, Keira, I'm fine." He reassured her. Keira only pulled back when a familiar accented voice called over the din.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

Rayn had finally arrived, her sapphire hair messier than usual and her jacket ruffled. She wasn't wearing her earrings, or necklace, and she was clearly exhausted.

"All I heard was Jak's car had been sabotaged—" She began, but everyone began talking at once.

-"I'm fine really."

-"Oversleep did we?"

-"Our boy pulled through."

-"Where were _you_ this morning?"

-"The weapons system was jammed, we're trying to figure out what caused it."

Rayn raised her hands in a placating motion.

"Hold on, hold on. Jak, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Everything in one piece?"

"Car lost a lot of armor."

"Easily replaced." Rayn waved one hand. "Out of morbid curiosity, what did you place?"

"A stunning first." Sig supplied.

"Well done, Jak." Rayn smiled tiredly at him, which Jak returned with equal fatigue. "Now, what precisely happened?"

"Working on it." Ashelin spoke from somewhere under the hood. Rayn nodded and gestured vaguely over the crowd.

"Am I caught up?" There was a chorus of mumbled agreement as Jak too, moved over to inspect his car. "Right." Rayn murmured to herself and rubbed tiredly at her eyes, walking slowly to sit on a tabletop littered with greasy tools. "That was some hell of a wake up call. 'Jak's car is sabotaged!' The one race I don't attend and everything falls apart."

"Where were you?" Keira demanded, glaring at the other woman over Jak's battered Road Blade.

Rayn's eyes remained narrow as she answered.

"Business."

"Business." The mechanic repeated derisively. "Like 'family' business."

Rayn did not bat an eye at this implication.

"Precisely."

"Uh-huh."

Finally, irritated with the mechanic's heated resentment into giving an explanation, Rayn explained her absence, aware that everyone present was listening with rapt attention.

"If you must know, I was up all night phoning for replacement parts for the Road Blade. Express order. Jak said he had had some trouble last night and I wanted to make sure nothing went wrong for his race this morning. That went well." She sighed and covered half of her face in one palm, rubbing the sleep from her eye. "That, and new tools for you."

Rayn blinked sleepily, trying to clear the haze from her eyes.

Keira stared at Rayn, speechless. Everyone stood still.

"You people are my business—I want to make sure everyone is happy and cared for. You've become like family. Hence, family business." She dropped the hand on her face and looked around the room and saw guilt in their eyes. "Forgive me for interloping."

"No."

Rayn looked to her star racer as Jak had stood up from his car and walked so that he centered himself amidst the team. Everyone watched as he folded his arms.

"No, what happened out there this morning was not Rayn's fault. I don't ever want to hear any accusing things towards her again. She raced alongside me and Sig in the Blue Eco Cup. She's on our side…she's one of us."

Rayn smiled proudly, her eyes shining, while behind Jak, Keira's face was a burning red.

"I wouldn't have made it this far if not for you. For all of you. I would have died today if it hadn't been for Sig talking me through it, or Keira convincing me to upgrade the boost, or Ashelin and Torn backing me in my other races. I wouldn't be here now. We are a team. Let's act like it."

A silence filled the air and Rayn was feeling more awake as her eyes met with Jak's once more. She saw it again. Something dark was there, behind his eyes. Some secret he wasn't willing to tell her, but certainly involved her. She was so tired; she couldn't be bothered with these riddles.

He looked away again. It was just as well.

"Found it."

Torn had removed a charred and blackened chunk of something. Rayn stood and moved with more energy than when she had entered to her team. On closer inspection, the thing looked like a large, cylindrical firework that had blown out its top. Good lord. An explosive.

"That was _not_there when we parked the car last night." Keira said flatly, her mind now empty of all but what she and Jak had fixed the night before.

"There's two more. Look. Right over the wires linking the weapons and defense to the processor." Torn pointed. "All used."

"Who would have done this?" Ashelin crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes never leaving the explosive.

"A jealous rival?" Rayn suggested.

"Or a Mizo thug."

Everyone looked at the blond man.

"What do you mean, Jak?" Sig asked.

"About thirty seconds into the race, someone else's voice had come over the line. They said: 'You should really have your car inspected before each race.' Or something like that."

"Did you recognize the voice?"

Jak shook his head. "Some thug." His eyes unfocused. "I want to say it sounded like Blitz."

No one saw as Rayn's eyes widened.

"Blitz? Really?" She asked.

"I don't know." Jak admitted.

Ashelin took the spent explosive from Torn.

"I'll get this analyzed."

The red-haired woman made her way over to the exit just as a slew of delivery people showed up with what appeared to be wrapped up car parts, all stamped with express postal marks. Ashelin looked back at Rayn, who shrugged helplessly. Ashelin turned back to the new arrivals and said fiercely:

"You're late."

* * *

**Author's Note: I FORBID anyone to look and see that the last update to this story was November of last year...or else I'll feel embarrassed and ashamed! It is typical of me though, I get stuck on where to move on and I tend to shelve a story--convincing myself that the ideas will come and I'll get a fresh perspective on it down the line. And here we are. A year later. /crickets chirp/ Uh, where is everybody?**

**My brain has been pretty dry, at least until I signed up for a play writing class that just opened up the floodgate of ideas that have always been floating around. You could just imagine my reaction to this wall of water with hands devoid of any floatation devices. Crash boom. And I'm back with a flourish.**

**Right! This chapter, what to say? Where to begin? I was frustrated. I went back through my materials, and popped in the game to replay scenes and get my footing again, only to realize I had missed the critical scene in which Jak's car is stalled of weapons and defense. Almost directly after the Blue Eco Cup--it's the following cutscene. I couldn't believe it. It took me a good few days, interruptions and all, to adapt the plot bunny into my story because I had completely forgotten the event even happened. (And now in retrospect, I don't know what I would have done without it.) At this point, I could almost say surely that the story is 3/4 complete, don't quote me on it. There's still the some story before the final race, the final race and the aftermath and...wow, so much stuff. I almost jumped off board again from being overwhelmed. But hopefully my readers/reviewers will keep my nose to the grind. **

**I'm sorry if the writing sounds terribly dry, choppy, missing detail--I haven't written fanfiction in awhile and other writing styles tend to cramp my creative flow, or eek into it. I'll try to perk it up next chapter if there are complaints with this one.**

**Content wise: Everything addressed has its importance. I finally came back to that Blitz interest in Rayn waaaaay back from chapter 2. I know, I'm twisted. But it's all for good reason! Why didn't I go on more about it before? I dunno, it's here now, stop drilling me! And what the fuzzy? Razer wasn't in this chapter! How DARE I leave that juicy steak out of this, after so long, no less? I promise the next chapter returns The Saucy. I made Jak talk too much. Well, he doesn't do it too often, so give me that. And yes, I shamelessly pitched my other Jak X story with Rayn and Sig. Feel free to read it if you haven't already! /wink wink nudge nudge/ And I hope, for those who have come back to read this, you will be happy to know that the next chapter is mostly written. So there should certainly be a following update shortly and not a long famine of a wait.**

**As always, your reviews are deeply appreciated! I hope I didn't loose too many of my readers! You know I read over all of the reviews, and that's what sparked me to write this piece again. I love all of you!**

**Blackfire**


	9. Wicked Game

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 9: Wicked Game**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within.**

Razer leaned over the concrete wall, one arm lay along the length while the other rested at the elbow, holding a cigarette to his mouth. He looked over Kras City with blank eyes, blessedly thinking of nothing but how much of his smoke he had left before having to light another. Yes, he was guilty of littering as he flicked finished cigarette after cigarette over the side of the building in a record breaking chain smoke. He had come down to his last one. Worse yet, the last cigarette had got him thinking.

Irritated, he knew he would have to pick up another pack, once his surveillance was complete. It wasn't so much a surveillance as a stake out. He was waiting for someone.

He had been ordered not to move from his position until the target was in place. Then and only then could he report his find and finally give his legs a good stretch, fill his stomach, and tear apart a track to satiate his rage.

The surveillance was Mizo's quiet form of punishment and, if served faithfully, a path to forgiveness. Razer had not been pleased with the idea of standing watch on an isolated rooftop, but it was better to cover all bases than to burn bridges at this point; though his revelation about Jak might have torn one subsidy asunder. It was a dangerous game he played, but one he was accustomed to. Walking the wire was a way of life.

Razer had already spent the previous night, the chilly morning, the glaring afternoon on the rooftop, and now the sun was cutting its path into the descent of night once more. His eyes flickered up to the sun's position, maybe two hours before it set. Again. Tedium. The rage had not entirely gone from him at this injustice, he was a racer not a spy, but instead smoldered in him as an issue to be addressed later—leaving boredom as his only company.

Razer looked at his cigarette and watched the smoke curl in twisting columns to dissipate in the air. It was half gone. The smokes had kept his mind off his stomach, but now he realized he was hungry. Mizo had come only twice with a meal and pack of cigarettes for him that he was going through like drones in a death race, but the rest of his time was spent hovering over the edge of the building. Watching and listening. And thinking.

He didn't want to think. His thoughts always circled back to her.

Evelyn Krew, the woman who had haunted his memory for years, had come back to him. He had spared the other, the daughter's life, time and again for the memory, repentance for breaking his promise to her all those years ago. But she was gone and he had grown, and now here, so had her child. Each day that passed brought Krew's daughter closer to unwavering conviction of her rightful place in the seat of power. And while the closer she drew to succession, the closer she came to the presiding crime lord, and the more Mizo took interest in her. Evelyn reborn. If the crime lord got his claws in that girl, she would suffer the same fate as her mother.

Mother and father, dead and gone, had left their daughter naïve and chasing shadows. How much did she know of her own family history? She would find the truth about her father soon enough, and he would have to be ready to give her a final warning. Their meetings were becoming suspected.

He would persuade her to go and caution her if she stayed, though he had already decided his plan of action if she chose not to leave Kras.

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He would worry about that when the time came.

The racer looked distractedly over the street below and took another drag on his dying cigarette, flicking useless ashes off its end to flutter gently down the building. Only a few puffs left.

His eyes flickered to the Bloody Hook a few blocks from his rooftop and thought longingly of a refreshing drink; something to keep him warm for another cold night ahead and numb his mind. His plans set, Razer virtually had nothing to occupy his time, except for the vicious brawls in the street before the Hook and he was sad to have missed them. He had seen three that day and Shiv had been involved with the second fight and consequently the victor. Everyone but the simpleton that scrapped with Shiv, knew not to bother Shiv.

The rest of the time, Razer was left to his thoughts. And yes, he thought long and hard about his next course of action. The winds were changing and he wanted to be sure that his sails caught them or he would be trapped in irons. He had plans designed whichever way the wind decided to take him. He would be ready.

An engine rumbled in the distance and Razer looked from the Bloody Hook on his right to the height of the street on his left. It was a sound forever imprinted on his mind. It was a sound he would never forget. The engine roaring, the tires screaming, the crunching explosion of grenade impact…

He watched the vehicle's approach dully and listened as the engine rumble louder, as it had that fateful day. A compact car, forest green, and fast as a bullet drove beneath him and finally down the street to the Hook. The woman driving got out among the array of familiar vehicles and went in.

Razer's cigarette was nothing but filter.

He flicked it over the side.

"Damn."

* * *

"Thank you again Jak for your help. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

The team had taken the evening to officially celebrate Jak's success in his unequalled advancement towards the championship race at the Bloody Hook. Torn and Ashelin had taken up residence on an open table, while Jak, Rayn and Daxter shared a length of the bar. Ordering up a round of drinks for everyone present, Rayn toasted Jak. All who had been present to snag the free drink toasted Jak along with their benefactor and Jak smiled shyly at the attention. When the cheers died down and everyone drank, Daxter spoke up from the other side of Jak.

"Um, Rayn?" Daxter swished his bottle of alcohol around by the neck. "About your dad Krew and all…"

Rayn smiled warmly at Daxter before looking to her star racer. Jak was slumped over the table, unable to meet her gaze as he spoke.

"Rayn, there's something I need to tell you." Jak began, but was interrupted by an annoyingly familiar voice. The racers looked up to see a grinning G.T. Blitz strutting over to Jak and Rayn with a slew of cameras in his wake. Rayn felt a chill rip open in her stomach at his approach, still alarmingly aware of their dangerous encounter a few nights ago. The woman felt safer and stronger among her friends, but Blitz almost always seemed to find a way to single her out; and his even stride in her direction said this time would be no different. She numbly wondered if he had finally come back to claim the prize.

"Hello race fanatics. We're coming to you live with a breaking story." Blitz winked at his cameras for the delicious tidbit he was about to share with his audience and stopped before the pair at the bar. A camera darted between Jak and Rayn, startling them both, as it flew directly to focus in on Jak's face. "Yours truly has recovered documents that prove Jak was the cause of Krew's death."

The chill that had gripped Rayn's gut, spread through her entire body.

"_What?_"

The same camera that had focused on Jak spun on her instead, capturing the stupefied shock on her face with pristine clarity. She looked at Jak, stunned. Cameras were all about them now, flitting between the reporter, the accused, and the daughter of the deceased.

"Jak left him to die in a terrible explosion." Blitz's said to the camera, his hand creeping over her jacket and came to rest on Rayn's back in a move of comfort. Had she been in the right mind, she would have floored him with a knock to the jaw, but her anger was fixated on Jak. Blitz's hand remained on her back. "How heartless can you get?"

Rayn's seething glare at Blitz only seemed to fuel the reporter's smile; the revelation was a reprimand for walking out on him that night no doubt, but her eyes moved back on Jak with cold revulsion. This matter held far much more sway than Blitz's depraved advances. Her stomach was in knots, her body burning in hatred and betrayal, and Jak's expression of distress did not soothe her one inch.

"It wasn't like that. Rayn, I had no choice!"

"I told Jak he should fess up." Daxter piped up helpfully. "I kept saying."

Rayn's gaze flickered to Daxter, then to Jak—realization threw her heart in her throat.

"You knew?" Her voice was tight as she moved closer to him in disbelief, moving to see the truth in his eyes, hoping he would discredit her statement. He shrank away. Heat had flushed her cheeks. She threw her gaze to where Torn and Ashelin sat. "You all knew didn't you?"

Blitz laughed as Rayn felt isolation settling heavily into her chest again. Her attention came back to Jak, one hand on her hip, her amber eyes blazing. So then, this was the secret; the devastating secret he simply could not share until the press found it. He had had weeks to tell her. Weeks! Had their friendship until now meant nothing?

All the while Blitz jabbered away for his captive television audience.

"Could it get anymore delicious? Well, we'll leave you two to work this out. Back to you Greaser and a commercial break." One last camera shot directly in front of Rayn which snapped her of her absorption with Jak, and she glared at Blitz. "Sorry folks but that's show business!"

He threw her one last wink that confirmed this was a vengeful act for rebuffing him, which she returned with a severe look, before he moved off, his cameras following him. Thrown back into mild privacy at last, a scandalized Rayn addressed Jak.

"Who are you?"

"You're father wasn't such a good guy, he killed a lot of people."

That defense gave him enough assurance to look her in the eye, but Rayn was far from convinced. Her father was a crime lord, their enemy was a crime lord—what did he expect, tea and crumpets?

"And you think Mizo's any better?" She demanded with an incredulous toss of her head. "If we lose this championship, the whole city will suffer!" She paused to see if he comprehended what she was telling him, but his blank stare at her outburst roused nothing from him and she exhaled her frustration, turning angrily away from him. Her gestures were livid and condemning. "You wouldn't understand. Leave me alone, I'll win without you if I must. I'm used to taking care of myself."

Rayn stormed out of the Bloody Hook and threw herself into her car, her engine roared to life and she slammed on the gas as her tires screeched to stop in her violent transition from reverse to first. The road ahead led out to the Wastelands, while the road behind her was burned with twin trails of black.

A moment later, another vehicle across the street pulled out of the shadows and silently followed after her. The red paint stood out more in the darkness than the black.

Witnessing all that transpired from the dark corridor beside the Bloody Hook, G.T. Blitz leaned against the pub with crossed arms and smiled.

* * *

The responding ring was muted in Rayn's ears as she called home. It took a moment before someone answered.

"Hello?"

"Gerard."

"Ah, Rayn dear, how are—"

"Do you know how my father died?"

There was a shocked silence on the line. Rayn was unconsciously grinding her teeth as she waited for him to answer, mechanically going through a sharp turn at a dangerous speed; her knuckles white on the steering wheel. The silence was unbearable as she waited for his answer.

"Where did this come from?" her butler asked in astonishment.

"Do you _know_ how he died?" Rayn said again. Another silence. "_Gerard_."

"What happened to your father that day was…unspeakable." Her butler trailed off and Rayn's throat tightened as her intuition told her what was next to come. "I just couldn't tell you."

The woman's heart stopped beating and the world stopped turning with it. Buildings raced by her unseen, she was frozen.

"My God, you knew?" Rayn breathed, taken aback by this freshest of betrayals, by someone so close to her. "You knew all along and you've never told me?"

"Rayn, your father requested I never—"

But Rayn had already hung up.

* * *

Rayn drove without care when her tires left pavement for rough, Wasteland dirt, kicking up rocks and sand into her new undercarriage, the sun dropping ever faster from the sky on her left. Common sense told her that predators preferred to hunt in the night that fell quickly in the Wasteland, but no common sense or rationality would get her to turn back. She was furious.

Her father, whom she had cherished and loved, left to die unceremoniously when it had been in Jak's power to save him was unethical; cruel. And to have kept it a secret from her! Now all those times he had looked away from her made sense. He had been guilty of her father's death and her presence was a constant reminder of his dark secret. A quiet, needling secret that he had neither confessed nor apologized for.

Jak guilty of such a crime had twisted Rayn's perspective up-side-down. Sweet Jak who had been the only one to stand in her defense when the team ganged up against her at the will reading. Jak of them all on the team, Jak who she had come to trust and revere, had left her father to die. What good and honest person does such a thing? What gave him the right to choose life or death for her father? If he could not be trusted, none of them could. Her quiet affections for him withered and she exhaled a shuddering breath.

Sure, she had her secrets to keep from them also, but certainly nothing that involved the deaths of family members. Everything the team needed to know had been set on the table; she kept little else from them. They had come to the will reading of their own free will, it was no fault of hers they didn't suspect anything. These people were so terribly confusing. They would leave a crime lord to die, but then attend his will reading? Really, what did they expect? Gifts? Shares of wealth and estate? She had already settled the issue in her mind that these people had sealed their own fates. What hurt most was the betrayal.

After proving herself worthy and _trustworthy _in a Grand Prix race, she had thought they were becoming good friends. All of them. Just goes to show how far one could trust "friends." And bloody hell, she would have much preferred a family death disclosed in a quiet room whereas her shock and anger had been recorded by a live feed for the press. It was so _disgraceful!_ It shamed all present. And her most of all. To have been told such a private matter in such a callous, public way…

Rayn's shout of animal frustration was unheard over the bellow of her engine as she pressed her vehicle to go even faster. The engine whined its strain, but Rayn was not moved to turn back. A canyon was stretching before her, one wall rising from the ground to an even level several stories high. Making a split decision, Rayn jerked the wheel, only realizing then how fast she really was going as she was thrown to the right, and drifted hundreds of feet. When her wheels caught again she was near the base of the incline and she drove up onto it.

The path was flat and wide, decorated with its dead bush here and there, as Rayn still hurtled along. The sun had moved into her eyes, but the sky had yet to catch fire and mark the coming of sunset. She followed this terrain until she saw up ahead that her path clearly stopped. The edge of a cliff.

Rayn eased on her brakes, and came to a stop just overlooking the Wasteland.

She shut off her car, still fuming, and slumped very unladylike in her seat, propping up her high heels to either side of the wheel on the dash. Had her etiquette teacher been around, she would certainly have strangled Rayn for violating all of her strict lessons. But Rayn didn't care.

She glared out over the valley below her, trying unsuccessfully to clear her mind of everything; her hurt, the betrayal, her mourning. Her friends had become enemies once more. She would need the distance eventually, but it was too soon. She was so close to claiming the city, so close, and she had only tasted that glory as a team. The same team who had heartlessly betrayed her.

The burning hatred was seething into a cold loneliness.

Had everyone known but her? Losing her father had been devastating for her, she loved him so dearly. He was all she had left after her mother…Her mother. Rayn knew of her mother's background—her family, what school she attended and her class rank, of her love for the arts and passion for racing. But Rayn knew precious little of her mother's personality.

She wondered coldly how many others knew the intimate details of the deaths in her family than she did. She could not remember much else of her mother, but she knew Evelyn Krew loved her daughter and her husband so much, that she would have given her life for them.

And her father was so grieved after her death that he worked tirelessly at creating new weapons; weapons to destroy the foe that had taken his wife from him. But even this did not fill the void, so he filled it with food. He gained weight—a lot of weight. Krew had felt so guilty for Rayn, unable to grow up with a motherly influence, that he spoiled her wherever he could. He sent her to the most prodigious, accredited school to be educated and to keep her safe from other crime lords, but even this most tactical of moves kept Rayn far away from her father. She would visit him on her school breaks of course, but even then, his time was limited as the business came first. She had never had as much time as she wanted with him.

A creeping loneliness was squeezing at her heart. No living family would come to her aid and the tremulous friendship she had forged had been dashed like a delicate butterfly's wings ripped from a violent gale. She was alone.

Her vision was beginning to blur, but she blinked it back.

That was the way of things. If she were to be crime lord, she would sit alone at the top. Alone.

She looked at the sun as it set in the sky. Flaming red in the heavens and soothing greens below as the sun reflected off the sand particles in the air. The gradient shifted as the palette of colors mixed with one another. It was a beautiful sight, but the triumphant sunset seemed out of Rayn's reach. She wasn't in the right mind to appreciate the beauty as she looked into the sun that teased her eyes into watering once more.

"Father," she murmured, "I need you."

Only the wind answered her plea, and she shut her eyes to the fiery light.

Her ears perked when she heard a droning sound on the wind, like an insect buzzing about her ears, or a…a car!

Rayn dropped her feet to the metal floor and spun quickly, who would dare intrude on her solitude? Who would have followed her out here? There was a car coming straight for her, and she could not yet be sure of its intentions.

It could be anyone.

Scrubbing at her eyes free of moisture to see clearly, she squinted down the canyon plateau. At the speed it was moving, the object was certainly a car, but it was too far away to make out any details.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. One thought entertained another as she dreamed up who might have pursued her out to the middle of nowhere.

Jak? Even though she was still angry with him, she would have accepted his apology, but she wasn't ready for him yet. Not yet. Her feelings for him had spun out of control and were not properly addressed for a confrontation so soon. She wasn't ready.

Or it could be one of the others come to take her back to Kras City. Sig or Torn, probably not Ashelin. But still, she wasn't quite ready for that. For any of them. She needed time to reclaim her composure, to weather the shock, could they grant her this lenience at least?

The vehicle was still hurtling towards her. Rayn's nails dug into the leather of her seat. Whoever it was looked like they were accelerating.

Her thoughts grew darker as the approaching car did not drop in speed.

It could be an assassin. She had made herself an easy, trapped target that a simple push would send screaming over the side of the cliff she had perched herself so thoughtlessly over. One of Mizo's goons could be trying to take out the threat and gain some glory for his name. It would be so easy to finish her off here. No witnesses, no mess. Stupid, stupid. It was stupid of her to come here without some backup—a weapon or an escape route. The latter would have been even better, but she had trapped herself up on this cliff, and between a sheer drop and a thug with murderous intent, she was very short of options. Son of Mar, she couldn't even get peace out in the middle of the desert without being pursued.

Who _was_ her pursuer?

Rayn bit her lip and squinted before her eyes opened wide.

"Oh, no rotting way. No way in hell. I can't believe it!"

Barreling down on her was none other than the familiar red and black spine armor of a Havoc V12. Razer. His car was turning suddenly, drifting at the high speeds, but it still would come crushing down on her with enough force to shove her over the edge. Rayn's mind was in a whirl of disbelief. Was he exacting his revenge on his loss to her now? Her sources' story of finding a smoking vehicle at the bottom of a cliff in the same Damien Massacre that only Razer walked away from came to the forefront of her mind. Why hadn't he avenged his honor sooner? He had had his chance their last encounter—why in the _blazes_ was he following her?

Her thoughts blanked as his car drifted long ways up beside hers, tires spinning, dirt and rocks flying, the car growing larger and larger, airborne stones knocking forebodingly on her frame—

Only to come to a stop a few paces before her door.

Rayn had stopped breathing.

_Bloody. Hell._

The smirk on his face awakened and revitalized her temper.

She stepped out of her car door and slammed it shut. She strode over to him, glaring daggers as he removed his goggles and exited his own car. This kind of distraction was just the grounds she needed to vent her rage.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

Razer visibly paused in his reach for a lighter in his jacket to light the cigarette already in his mouth, his eyebrows moving up a fraction. He removed the cigarette from his lips and smiled.

"My, my. Handed a little adversity and she ceases to be the lady." He walked unhurriedly around his vehicle and replaced the cigarette in his mouth. He sparked a flame to life on the lighter, took a drag, and released the gas. "All those years at the Prestige for not, I see. What _would_ your father think?"

The arrow drove directly into her open wound.

"What in Mar's name are you doing here? Is your life so unfulfilling now you've been disgraced on the track that you have to resort to shadowing my every move?"

"Don't upset me, princess." Razer exhaled his words around a cloud of smoke, but Rayn wasn't finished and she advanced angrily on him, tired of his games, his jaunty swagger, his stifling superiority.

"Why are you out here? Who the hell sent you? Have you got some kind of agenda with me, or are you just being your usual lapdog-to-Mizo self?"

By this time, Rayn had backed Razer so that he was sitting on the hood of his Havoc. He appeared very nonchalant at her outburst enough to cross his legs at the ankle.

"Tut tut, kitten," Razer replaced the lighter in his jacket. "I'm here strictly for business."

Rayn stared at him, deflated that her explosion had provoked no reaction.

"Business?"

Razer hummed a curt agreement, fishing in his jacket for something else and not meeting her gaze. He removed a pair of handcuffs and a handgun.

"Yes, but I'm not quite sure just how to carry it out." His emerald eyes looked at her. Rayn froze in that stare. Their gazes locked and the intense competition lasted several moments when Razer suddenly looked over the edge of the cliff and his arm tossed the items over the side.

"Oops."

His hand now free, he casually took the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled the smoke.

If Rayn had been stunned before, she was shell-shocked now. The woman's mouth had dropped open and she gawked dumbly at this bewildering pardon. This gave Razer plenty of time to leisurely draw on his cigarette and exhale another ring of smoke. His eyes would not meet hers again.

"A reminder of what you're up against. Your poor choice of coming here could have been your death."

"Could have?" Rayn echoed him numbly. "Is that not what you were sent here to do?"

His lips curved faintly into a smile. He said nothing. Staggered again at his inaction and what appeared to be deliberate refusal of orders, Rayn collected her thoughts.

"How did you find me?"

"Angry driving in the Wastelands tends to leave dust clouds."

Rayn mulled over this thought; she had been far to occupied to worry about hiding her trail from enemies. She retreated back a few steps so she could steady herself against her own car. It frustrated her how he could always be so right.

"Blitz told you."

Her eyes shot up into his, his emerald eyes were dark on her. The silence stretched. Rayn finally rubbed her eyes in defeat.

"Did everyone know but me?" she muttered coldly to herself, then more loudly. "How did _you_ know that?"

Razer's voice was just as condescending.

"Concentrate, kitten. News."

Son of Mar. She could have deduced that on her own. She really was in a dark place and Razer seemed to sense it.

"I'm here to give you a warning." He said at last.

"You've made yourself quite clear." She retorted coldly over her shoulder and made to get back into her car, but Razer's arm was suddenly there, barring her path.

"Emotional outbursts are unbecoming of a crime lord."

"I don't bloody give a damn what you think."

Razer studied her for a long moment. His cigarette burned uselessly.

"If you are uninterested in my information, then leave, by all means." His arm slipped from blocking her path. "Just realize your fate falls on your own head." He turned and began to make for his car; Rayn watching him go. Only Razer seemed to wrench her emotions around so violently when he descended on her, but at the same time, no one else brought her such clarity of thought. His appearance had focused her mind on something she had been musing on for some time; and it snapped into place.

"Wait!" She swallowed her surprise when he obeyed. Rayn approached the racer, whose back was still to her. He had not gone far, but she felt she had walked miles before she drew behind him and his head moved slightly towards her; his green eye pinning on her.

Rayn steeled herself.

Reaching out with both arms, she placed her hands on his shoulder blades. This produced the effect she was hoping for. Razer froze. Strange how he could throw himself without warrant at her, but when she touched him, he was a docile lamb. He did not move as she ran her hands over the leathery, red material of his jacket, feeling the solid wall of muscle even beneath the thick layer of jacket. Her hands swept outward and moved slowly to cup over his powerful arms, just above the elbow. His green eye watched her from over his shoulder, but still she felt over him, daring to move the slightest, hesitant step closer. Her palms ran down his arms, over the bell curve of his gloves, his wrists, until she reached his fingertips. It was here she began to tug at the material, but only on one side.

Razer's right glove.

No sooner had the glove slipped down an inch, was Razer suddenly a blur of motion. The glove ripped from her fingers and in the lightning actions that followed, Rayn found herself thrown against the side of the Havoc with Razer's body an immoveable wall against her, a glinting knife biting at her neck. His fury was well founded as he realized her caress had a selfish motive behind it. Women were all alike. Rayn's shock ebbed at the confirmation of her suspicions; his reaction could not have proven otherwise.

"That's it then," she murmured softly, "you bear the mark."

Razer's eyes were hard but he did not deny her statement. Rayn's eyes looked at the hand she had tried to remove the glove from before looking back up at him again.

"You have the flame tattoo that only racers of the highest caliber bear. A mark of Mizo's most prized racers. But that mark goes back further than Mizo." Rayn's amber eyes were reflecting the burning brilliance of the setting sun. "That tattoo standard was started by Roy Blitz, G.T. Blitz's father, and Marcus Cunningham, my uncle." Her voice grew even softer. "Cunningham was my mother's maiden name." Rayn studied Razer, but the man was expressionless as his hard gaze never wavered or the knife moved from her throat. "Is this story familiar to you?"

Razer's lips were curling back to expose his teeth.

"I am not your friend." He spoke very slowly, venom dripping in his every utterance, pressing the knife edge against her skin to emphasize his words. Goosebumps were rising as the woman gazed back at the racer. "And though we have crossed paths before, each time, I have been very capable of taking your life. You think because I have not, I cannot? You are foolish to believe we are anything more than enemies." Rayn stared at him, but the fear he expected to find had eluded her amber gaze. "Be careful what you investigate. You might not like what you find, and nor will others."

"I can trust you?" Rayn's smile was hinting of smug. Razer returned it. The knife point dipped to the hollow of her throat.

"You can trust no one."

Rayn's voice was velvety when she spoke.

"My death must not be very profitable to you, or I would not be standing here now. You're deliberately disobeying orders as though you owe it to me …or rather," her eyes flickered down, and then rose to meet his again, "you owe my mother."

Behind them, the sun had set, leaving only the sunset as their remaining light as the sky slowly made its descent into darkness. Before her, a smile was twisting the edges of Razer's lips as he assessed her. She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn she saw a suppressed flicker of approval across his face. She dared not to think it, but his expression was unusually pleased, perhaps she had actually impressed him.

She had hit the issue close to the heart, if not on the head, and the wound was still tender. He had somehow come into debt with her mother, if his subtle intimations had meant anything, and she had been merciful on him—now some of that unpaid debt was trickling to Rayn. That much she knew, but the mystery still stood before her in all his glory; and she ached to know.

The quivering thought made her braver and she pressed him again with as much presence as his knife at her throat.

"How do you know my mother?"

Their gazes locked; glinting emerald meeting burning amber.

"What would you do if you knew?" he asked softly, curiously. Rayn tilted her head slightly, despite the knife at her throat.

"Welcome a colleague into my confidence." She murmured, daring to venture further, "She was irreplaceable to both of us."

He studied her a moment, and when his face moved closer, she did not draw away, not even when his cheek passed closely by hers.

"And if I decline?"

Goosebumps pulled more tightly at her skin as the heady scent of smoke and spices washed over her once more. The stubble on his jaw brushed her cheek. A quake surfaced and extinguished throughout her body.

"I'll have you killed." She breathed. There was no bite to her words.

He had closed the distance between them as the length of his body pressed her back against his car. She had promised herself never to be overwhelmed by him again, but her limbs where seizing up despite herself. This was the closest they had been since their last encounter, but Razer was being so intentionally measured about his motions, drawing out every moment of bated breath into breathless expectation.

When he spoke, his breath was hot and his voice smooth. Rayn shuddered.

"Damien."

Her amber eyes focused on a point on his jacket as her brow knit. Damien? His school? But what did that have to do—

Her lips parted as she drew in a muted breath and her eyes widened as she felt his mouth on her ear. Rayn's emotions tumbled from confusion to shock to desire, all resonating at the base of her spine; threatening to rocket up to her brain and render her helpless to primal urges. Her instinctive reaction was to push him away but the same innate compulsion wanted to draw him closer; to feel his soft lips on her neck, her collarbone, her chest…

Suddenly the warmth on her ear and chill on her neck was gone and her eyes flickered over to him in disorientation. There, between his teeth, was a small golden object. Bewildered, she reached up to her ear with one hand and found that indeed, one of her earrings was missing. Frustration was beginning to well up within her again as she had yet again failed to deduce his motives or gain a suitable answer to her questions.

He quirked his eyebrows at her before turning and heading back to his car, dropping the earring into one hand as he went. Razer was suddenly all the snide businessman again; the sardonic, scathing racer she knew so well, as though their exchange had been all enacted to seduce her earring from her.

"I need this more than you."

Unsure of what had just happened, but not wishing to be outdone, Rayn spoke up in a derisive enough tone to match his.

"What are you planning to do, wear it?" But Razer did not acknowledge her as he made his way to the opposite side of his Havoc. "Be reasonable, Razer. You can't go around wearing a single earring, you simply must have the pair." She said as she busily removed the match from her other ear. She meant to throw the thing at him with enough velocity to knock teeth loose, or at least bruise in her aggravation, but Razer rose in time to see the throw and deftly caught it in one hand, his expression decidedly stoic.

"Go back to your team. Without them, you will be nothing."

And he was driving away back the way he had come.

Rayn could do little but stare after. What had just happened?

She thought…maybe, she had established some common ground between them, a connection to secure his loyalty to her. But she was still uninformed, missing critical information, and Razer knew it, or he would not have had so easy a time walking away from her. Or at least he could have felt guilty for stealing her earring—the one he took was an heirloom of a priceless precursor artifact that her mother had given to her. She had a cynical feeling she would never get her earrings back.

Evelyn Krew was very special to Razer, but Rayn had yet to pinpoint why. And Mizo, he was just outside her grasp in concrete evidence. Everything was so close and yet still out of her reach.

A sharp, intrusive noise cut through the air, causing Rayn to start. Oh, her cellular phone. She moved quickly and reached into her vehicle, snapping open the phone when she found it and placing it to her ear.

"Yes?"

Rayn's eyes looked blankly over her Firebat, before they widened slightly and came into focus. A terrible smile curving the edges of her lips.

"Really? Is it documented?" The smile grew and when she spoke again, her voice was contently purring.

"Brilliant."

* * *

**Author's Note: Wow, this was a really long chapter. I hadn't meant it to be, but there you are. And my suffocating detail has returned! /wink wink/ And The Saucy was back too for another round of steak! I'm almost terrified to think how much softer he's become. We can't have that. He seems to be planning something anyway. Will he side or will he fold? **

**This chapter was a bit of a challenge to write. One of my favorite scenes was "Jak's Dark Secret" and I can only hope I did it some justice. I restricted myself from going into too much nauseating detail for that scene, that's the game's story, and while important, I had my own venture to attend to. Still, I pray this one came across as nicely. Haha, and lots of thinking for my main characters! Sheesh! Well, they have a lot to consider; what to do and where to go now, sort of thing.**

**I think this chapter was a lot more tame than my 7th between Rayn and Razer, but Rayn seems to finally be realizing how saucy Razer really is, especially with this heartbreaking renting of ties with Jak. Curses, I may have to break up with Jak too over this one--just to really get into Rayn's head. And Rayn made a move on Razer! A selfish one, but hey!! She's growing up! /cries/**

**Holy canole, the next chapter is going to be huge. HUGE! It may be awhile before I update again. Just as Razer thought, the closer Rayn gets to power, the more Mizo we get to see. So now Mizo is playing a major role in the story. I've got quite a bit to tie up and tie in for the next chapter, and it does look rather daunting. Quite a few new topics popped up here too that need to be addressed. Why did Razer take Rayn's earring? And what ever could Rayn mean about something being documented? Intrigue!**

**I hope everyone can wait for the update, this one is such a cliffhanger! Stay tuned! As always, R n R, please!**

**Blackfire 18**


	10. Secrets Revealed

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 10: Secrets Revealed**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing, it is the property of Naughty Dog.**

"Ah, Razer! Back so soon?"

The racer had just entered in on his employer and crossed over to the wet bar without pause. Razer had only nodded acknowledgement for hearing his boss before stooping behind the array of compartments on the far side of the counter. Blitz, who had been looking out at the night sky from an adjoining atrium broke from his trance when he heard Razer enter, and leaned over the wall separating the tiered floor from the grand expanse of living space beyond it.

"Went that well did it?" Blitz smiled when the racer still made no reply. Razer would not speak until he had a lit cigarette set firmly between his lips. If Razer was so focused on getting his nicotine fix to not give even a basic verbal greeting, then something had caused his nerves to fray. Either that girl had done something to upset him, or he had failed his mission. Finally, the black haired man rose from the counter and retrieved his lighter in one sweep and slowly made his way over the Blitz. A drag or two later, Razer was feeling more talkative.

"She was fast, but I caught up to her." Razer had walked up the steps and joined Blitz on the opposite side of the low wall.

"So what did our girl have to say about our offer?" Blitz pressed.

Razer's eyes narrowed as he looked out over the city skyline.

"She was in a bad way."

"Upset over daddy dearest? I can't imagine why, he practically abandoned her at that private school. I couldn't have broken her spirit without that nice tip of yours." Blitz smiled cruelly and studied his companion closely. Razer's expression did not change; he was nonchalant as he exhaled another breath of smoke. Blitz continued. "I thought I had made her an easy target to be picked up after that number. Emotional women are so much more…persuadable."

"I could hardly get a word in edgewise."

"Your devilish good looks and charm didn't win her over?" Blitz laughed, but not without a hint of suspicion. "You had the tools necessary, what went wrong?"

Razer's eyes focused again as he met Blitz's gaze.

"They weren't needed."

"Strange. You seem to be showing this one an unusual amount of chivalry. Why is that, Raze?" Blitz's indigo eyes followed the younger man as he descended the steps of the atrium.

"I felt there no need for unnecessary force," Razer began making his way to his quarters with a flippant hand wave as an unspoken wish of a good night, "she will come to you."

Blitz's grin had widened as Razer exited the room. He shook his head lightly and chuckled as he turned back to the view out of his atrium. Blitz had been worried that Razer was getting soft on him and that simply would not do at so critical a point in the game. Krew's daughter was proving to be a genuine competitor for the Kras Cup, with Jak as her ace; and Blitz had lost his ace in the hole. Jak was supposed to die in the Mountain Highway race without weapons or defenses; it was a foolproof plan, but the damned boy came out on top. Jak was slimier than a lurker slug that just kept slipping from his grasp, but _she_ had managed to sink her claws into him. Krew had made his connections for his little girl should anything happen to him and Blitz wanted the empire she was to acquire.

But Krew's girl, Rayn, she would come to him. It was damned time too. He had known about the team's poisoning for some time now and though he was beginning to grow impatient with the final races locking up, he was still feeling generous if she wanted to plea-bargain.

This would not be the first time another woman who had taken his fancy had come to him asking for some favor.

_Isn't that right, Evelyn?_

* * *

Gilroy T. Blitz sat at his desk in Haven City, shuffling papers. This would be his last day here in this dump of a city before his inheritance officially took effect and he could claim his father's estate in Kras. His plan had worked all too well.

Now he was just tying up loose ends…and cover his tracks before he started over. His mother had long since passed and his father had left him precious little. It was a meager amount he was succeeding into, since his father poured all of his wealth into his cars, but Gilroy knew exactly what he wanted to do from here. He had money stored away from his races and he had built a name for himself as a racer. He would race a couple more years, hire a younger man to do his racing for him eventually, then he would be a star broadcaster. He'd still be in the circuit, but not risking his life and limb for it. It was a foolproof plan.

Gilroy had always hated his name because he had been named after his father. And he hated his father. Anywhere he could demand it, he told people to call him G.T.

It would be difficult, but he knew he could do it. His alias had finally made itself known, and while the son of Roy Blitz mourned the passing of his father, he congratulated himself for the sheer brilliance of the moment his plans came together in an explosive symphony of freeing hope and power. All those months of tireless planning and underground deals as an unknown crime lord by the name of Mizo, had finally granted him a fresh start and a forging into his next grand design.

Roy Blitz and Marcus Cunningham, a racer and his rich supplier, were an inseparable pair. Blitz and Cunningham had raced one another in a school championship and Roy had beaten Cunningham by several car lengths. The two became good friends after that fateful day and often visited one another outside of school. Marcus began entering them both into big stakes racing and Roy nearly always won, and money opened up new avenues for both young men. Roy often let Marcus handle the finances and the latter did go on to buy several cars and tracks. His father had brought the talent to the track, while Cunningham provided the track and funded his father's vehicles, publicity, and salary.

But the first track Marcus Cunningham bought for a new type of racing, the Dethdrome, was an investment that would outlast him.

To celebrate the newly bought circuit, Blitz had invited his family to the track, while Cunningham only invited a single person, a woman, who went by the name of Evelyn Cunningham.

Gilroy could still clearly remember the day, the moment she joined her brother in their private box.

-----

She was the most beautiful woman Gilroy had ever seen. Long, sapphire hair tied in a neat ponytail floated behind her as she walked with elegant strides in stiletto heels, and a set of long bangs framed her oval face—a face with the most glorious amber eyes that seemed to burn with the same presence as the sun. Her attire was both smartly professional yet seductive at the same time as it hugged her curvaceous body; hints of her olive tanned skin peeked out in strategic places, teasing the onlooker about the body just beneath.

"Marcus, you actually got that flame tattoo, I can't believe it."

"Roy wouldn't let us leave until I got one too."

The woman smiled as Cunningham opened his arms for her. Blitz felt a searing jealousy as brother and sister embraced and exchanged a soft spoken word on the others health, before moving on to introductions.

"Everyone, this is my sister, Evelyn." Marcus said.

Roy did not wait as he took the woman's hand and kissed it with zest.

"Ms. Cunningham, may I say you are as beautiful as ever."

The woman's tinkling laugh made Gilroy melt.

"Listen to you, how can you speak to me with a straight face after you've forced my brother to get a tattoo?"

"Well, he wouldn't let me tattoo your name on my arm, so we had to make a deal." Roy shrugged.

"You cad! How can you be so ignorant of your lovely wife?"

"Wife?" Roy repeated teasingly. "I still have one of those?"

"He's a useless womanizer, that one." Mrs. Blitz nodded to the newcomer, not offended by the attention her husband was lavishing on his partner's sister.

"I'm so terribly sorry." Evelyn said sympathetically to Roy's wife.

"Oh, I'm used to it." The older woman rolled her eyes, but gave a thankful smile to Evelyn.

"What's this I hear of you being an item?" Roy went on. "I thought we would have a go first?"

"You're a married man, Mr. Blitz, I couldn't possibly share you." The sapphire-haired woman said, placing her free hand on her hip.

"You can have me whenever you want." The two of them laughed.

"The rumors are true." Evelyn confirmed, testing Roy's grip on her hand that he still would not surrender. "I have met a gentlemen of a racer and we have been together for nearly a year now."

"Another racer? How could you?" Roy finally released her hand and covered his face in melodramatic gusto.

"I did say a _gentlemen_ racer. He's as dashing as you are cheeky."

Roy suddenly became aggressive in a fit between jealousy and brotherly protection.

"Where is this guy, I'll rip him a—"

"That's right, Eevie, where is this chap? I told you to bring him along." Marcus interjected, but sharing the same concern as Roy.

"Oh, he had business to attend to. That, and I warned him how you get with the men I date." Evelyn teased. Marcus crossed his arms and looked stern.

"I have a duty to protect my little sister." He declared. Evelyn shook her head in mock exasperation and finally looked over at Gilroy.

"And who might this handsome young gentleman be?"

Roy too looked over at his son who he seemed to have forgotten was there with the woman's arrival.

"That's my boy." He supplied.

Evelyn moved with a graceful sway to the blond-haired boy. Gilroy swallowed and tried to ignore his trembling legs as she stopped just before him. Her amber eyes flickered over him and he felt his spine tingling at the assessment. "Gilroy Blitz?"

His smile was stupidly wide, he knew, but he held out a hand nonetheless. She took it and he was surprised at the firmness in her grip.

"That I am." He said, beaming that she had known his name.

"My brother has told me so much about you; says you've got a grand career ahead of you in the racing industry." He did not want to let go of her hand when her grip slacked, but he reluctantly did so. He was going to be more gentlemanly than his father. She turned back to her brother. "Marcus, didn't you say you would terminate Roy's contract to employ Gilroy the very instant he starts losing public interest?" The three of them laughed at the long standing joke between them. She turned back to the teenager. "What do you say, Gilroy, interested?"

The young Blitz looked the woman up and down.

"Very."

She gave him a wry look, as though she knew what he was thinking and it was not anywhere near a racing contract. He watched her as she turned away, sapphire hair flowing over her slender back, her long legs taking her to her seat.

He wanted to sit by her when the races began, but his father and Cunningham each claimed one of her sides. The race itself was a blur in his memory, a very rare occurrence for the young Blitz, for he was as avid a fan as they came, but he was watching Evelyn Cunningham and had become fascinated by how well she knew the sport. She approached it in an almost businesslike way, yet shared the same passion for racing as her brother. Smart and beautiful, now that just wasn't fair that someone else had laid claim on her first. He stole furtive glances at her whenever he could and walked past her with every excuse he could imagine. Still, the three of them were like twittering birds as the races drew on.

Theirs was a big name in the sport as the richest sponsors around, and Gilroy was dumbfounded by just how much the family owned of it. The Dethdrome was just the latest of the tracks, but the first Marcus Cunningham owned in Kras City, and only a select few knew that his plans for it were for a new sport: Combat racing. No one knew about it, the press, the public, racers, other sponsors—no one. Even Gilroy had only found out by eavesdropping on his father and Cunningham when he decided to buy the track in the dangerous city. Gilroy hoped the new sport would stay quiet for a little longer.

Gilroy felt a burning in the pit of his stomach. He wanted the Cunningham family's racing assets. All of them. And he would get them any way he could.

-----

Nothing had really changed since then. His drive was as determined as ever, but the face of the sport had changed.

G.T. Blitz looked up from his papers, tired of them, his mind was elsewhere.

He had grown suffocatingly obsessed over Evelyn Cunningham. He just couldn't get her out of his head, even now, Blitz could see her sway up to greet him in that private box and all he could remember was how he wanted her. He had done all manner of searches on the woman, pulled strings, made calls and archived her life's story in a digital notepad, memorizing her every move until this point. Her brother's assets would surely go to her when he passed but Gilroy had to be sure.

What had been hardest to locate, was the romantic interest she had hinted at in the private box. G.T. perseverance prevailed and he was shocked at what he unearthed.

Krew. The underground weapons crime lord. Krew, being the…man he was, was next to impossible to dig up information on. Why the beautiful Ms. Cunningham had fallen for such a brute was beyond him. Maybe she was attracted to the power of a crime lord. And Krew had a racing empire of his own, not as expansive as the Cunningham family, but enough to rattle some minds, and pockets. Should their families join, it would create a monopoly lock on the racing industry. Somehow, Ms. Cunningham would have become sole owner of her own racing empire and fund her father. Only then would Gilroy be able to see his goals to success.

Hiring assassins went out to the highest bidder, and only crime lords had that kind of money.

Left no other real options, G.T. made himself to be one.

Mizo was born.

Marcus Cunningham had died a short time after that day in the private box; an unfortunate "accident," the first stage in an unknown Mizo's plot, had befallen him, and Evelyn took over the business. Precisely where G.T. had wanted her.

He would have the Cunningham assets yet, and all that entailed.

Roy mourned the loss of his friend, and Evelyn her brother, but the woman did fund Roy for the next year while Blitz built his empire.

Mizo built up his contacts and promised them better salaries than most crime lords could offer hired help. His family grew as experience won him more races and bets against other crime lords. More and more crime lords were willing to fix races and get a cut of Mizo's winnings, as more and more racers and vehicles came under his control. But the economic crisis of the underground was destabilizing the peace and tensions were high. There had been civil unrest since Marcus Cunningham had died and Krew came into power, with Evelyn and all of her resources following as his wife. So Mizo spread his rumors and lies until that unrest peaked.

Mizo made his first forge into the underground awareness by setting off a war—on the Krew crime family.

He had been careful to hurt Krew as much as he possibly could, but he was still waiting for her. Waiting for her entreaty to stop the war, because the fixed races were harming her financially as well. Blitz fingered a black fountain pen among his other writing utensils. This pen was not filled with ink. Blitz smiled darkly. When she did come, he would be ready.

"Blitz, sir?" a runner had poked his head into Blitz's office. Irritated at the interruption, but calmly hiding it in a smile, Blitz acknowledged the man. "It's Ms. Cunningham here to see you, what should I tell h—"

But Evelyn Cunningham had pushed through the doors on the runner's other side. Blitz could not stop his heart jumping into his throat at the sight of her, even after all this time. His eyes drank her in. She was still as smartly dressed as ever, her hair pulled back stylishly, her sway ever present, although she did seem to be gaining a little weight. Hmm. Stress no doubt. She glared at the runner.

"Mrs. Krew." She curtly corrected the embarrassed messenger without breaking stride to Blitz's desk. "Blitz, we need to talk."

Blitz motioned at his runner to leave them and the runner readily obeyed.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Krew?" Blitz smiled accommodatingly and indicated she take the open leather seat before him, but the woman was not having any of it. The man's eyes flickered to the container that held an assortment of pens before his eyes met hers and she stood directly before his desk.

"Don't play coy with me, you know precisely why I'm here." She snapped.

"Right to the chase, I've always liked that about you. If only I'd gotten to you before he did." Blitz winked at her.

"You wouldn't have." She retorted, all barbs and wire. She certainly was not here for a pleasure visit, but Blitz kept trying anyway.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

"There is a war going on." She said incredulously.

"I'm so pleased you made it here in one piece." Blitz smiled as he got up and walked across the room to the wet bar, feeling her amber eyes burning holes into his back the entire time. He poured two glasses of wine. "Speaking of which, does your husband know you're here?"

"Either we talk business, or I leave, _Mizo_."

The bottle in Blitz's hand jumped. Damn. He had taken out her brother and cleanly covered up all of his tracks, there was no possible way that Evelyn Cunningham could know that he was responsible for her brother's death, but he had more clumsy with his father apparently. In that case, their meeting now had become all the more dangerous. Still, it sounded like Krew did not know she was here, which was an advantage for him, but he would have to make his move and he would have to do it before she left the premises. Blitz's hand steady again, he took up the two glasses of wine and made his way back to his desk.

"All right, all right. What is it you'd like to talk about it?" He sat down and Evelyn finally sat in the chair opposite him. He placed the wine glass before her, but she did not take it. Her eyes had not moved from his since he had made contact with them again.

"Stop this war."

Blitz sputtered into his wine.

"Ha! Stop the war, why would I want to do something like that? What's in it for me?"

"Both sides are losing money, resources, this is idiocy and you will achieve nothing."

"You're here, aren't you?"

Evelyn's eyes met his, but she was silent. Blitz sipped his wine before replacing it on the desk.

"Why are you here?"

"I want at least five years of peace between our families." She said lowly. "Need I remind you that my husband owns the widest collection of weapons in the nation?"

Blitz studied her before he spoke slowly.

"Then why not open fire on my operations? You know where I am. You've had numerous opportunities…Unless you have some individual need to satisfy?"

"That would only escalate this war and that is not beneficial to either of us."

"What does that matter to you if you have the firepower?" He countered. She had fallen silent again and Blitz continued. "Where's your gun? Why am I still breathing?"

Evelyn's face contorted into a furious glare.

"Because I knew your father and I cared deeply for him. He wanted you to take his place behind the wheel. To be his successor. And you…you…What you did is irreparable. I didn't even think you capable of such a thing." Her eyes screwed shut with disgust. "Your father, he had plans for you, dreams—you were his only son and he loved you—"

"He didn't love me! He didn't give a damn about the family. You remember. He only loved the track—the races you and your brother were always fueling him with fed his addiction!" Blitz bellowed back as he slammed his fists on his desk. The tense silence between them stretched. He ran a hand through his hair, discovering that a sweat had broken over his brow. He shut his eyes. "So, we don't have intentions of killing each other. Then why are you even here? You could have done away with the threat to your family business—what's holding you back?"

"Now is not a good time." The change in her voice made Blitz look back at her. She had become softer, more concerned. Whether on his behalf or for some other reason, he could not be sure. "Your death would either scatter your resources, or unite them against my family. That does not bode well for a quiet environment."

_Quiet environment?_ What the hell was she talking about?

"What do you mean 'quiet environment?'" Blitz asked, not quite able to keep the skepticism from his voice. But the woman just glared at him, she would not surrender why she needed the atmosphere to be the epitome of serenely cooing birds and tranquil, misty lakes.

"Fine." Blitz held up his palms, he would play her little game and see how far he could take it. "Let's say that I do call off my men and stop the war, you and your husband can go on living happy lives, but you'll have to meet my conditions first."

He watched her closely, suspiciously, if she would seriously submit to him or not. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"What are the terms?"

Blitz felt his stomach turn, which did not bode so well with the wine he had just drunk. She—she was serious! She had come to him to make an agreement and she was actually going to yield to what he asked of her? Whatever her reasons were, she was willing to possibly sacrifice her freedoms for it? Her incentive for coming here over enemy lines without her husband's knowledge spoke volumes, and whatever had frightened her into a temporary truce, he could not fathom, but he would take advantage of it. Blitz licked his lips.

"I want your racing assets. All of them." Her eyes shot back open. He was standing up from his desk and fishing out a contract and a black fountain pen. "All of your tracks, your vehicles, your racers, everything." He was making his way to the front of his desk, advancing on Evelyn.

"You're mad." She said coldly. "Racing is the largest source of our revenue."

"So you'll be a bit poorer for it. You did say your husband has the weapons trade." Blitz thrust the pen at her, its sharp tip bit into the skin of her hand. She yelped in pain as Blitz recoiled, and sharply drew her hand to herself, cradling it protectively in the other. She was bleeding.

"I'm so sorry, let me get you a gauze." He started to fetch the item, but she stopped him short.

"No." She spat fiercely, nursing her hand with her lips. A small bead of blood clung to her lips when she looked up from her hand. He watched as her tongue flicked over her ruby lips. "I refuse to make such a deal."

"Hey, you came to me asking to stop this." He slapped both contract and pen onto the desk before her, beside her untouched wine glass. "Beggars can't be choosers." Blitz and Evelyn's eyes met; she was glaring at him in hatred, knowing she had come beaten. But even in her defeat, she was not going to surrender her racing assets to him—racing wasn't just for profit, it was her family's identity. Blitz knew she would refuse, but he knew what he really wanted her to resign to. "Ok, since I'm such a generous man, I can make you another deal." He leaned over her, moving slowly forward into her face, both of his hands coming to rest on the arms of her chair. "Give yourself to me." Evelyn's mouth fell open. He yearned to kiss her then, to taste her, but he restrained from the stimulating contact. "Five years of peace for five years of you. It's not like a binding, marriage contract, but you will be mine. You will come when I call, and you will serve my every wish. You will be loyal and you will obey me, you will come willingly to my bed…"

She was speechless as she stared at him, disbelieving what he was asking of her. His face was drawing nearer hers, his breath on her lips.

"Never."

"Either I have your assets, or I have you, which will it be?" Suddenly hands were pushing on his chest, pushing him away.

"No, I can't, Krew and I have…" she had moved to stand, but her eyes were out of focus and she was teetering dangerously to one side. Blitz smiled, the pen had done its job and she was beginning to feel the effects. "I'm pruh…" Blitz caught her before she fell; she was surprisingly heavy in his arms, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"No need to work yourself into a tizzy."

One arm wrapped around her back, while the other swept her legs out from under her.

"Maybe you should lie down."

Blitz carried her to an adjoining room where he had slept the last few nights; he had bought a bed for just this reason. Evelyn was fighting vainly in his arms despite the narcotic, but the effort was laughably weak as Blitz laid his prize down on the bed and he followed.

Evelyn was breathing hard, her eyes half-open from the exertion as the drug worked viciously through her body. Blitz studied her, taking in all of her curves once more. Finally, he had her at his mercy.

Her sapphire hair spilled over the bed covers, her body ready for his touch, her lips parted to greet his. He reached a hand up to brush her bangs from her brow and his knuckles grazed the soft, flushed skin of her check. He leaned over her. This time, she would be unable to fight his kiss.

Something vice-like clamped on the hand that was at her cheek and Blitz's eyes shot open again. Evelyn, in a final desperate effort, moved his hand from her cheek, over her chest, her ribs, before stopping at her abdomen. She placed his hand, palm down, over her belly. When he looked back into her eyes, they were staggeringly coherent: This. She seemed to say. This was why she had come. Her amber eyes lost their fierce glow before rolling back into her head and her body slackened as she fell unconscious.

Blitz looked back at his hand, feeling the slight swell of her abdomen, when he ripped his hand from her as if burned. Dear God, she was pregnant!

He leapt from her and away from the bed, stumbling to the wall for support, appalled and disgusted.

That was why she had come? But, how did—

She had…had…with Krew!?

How did a—

How did this amount to—

With Krew!?

And he had, oh God

He had wanted

But she had come and

With KREW!?

He couldn't even look at her. She had come seeking peace for her unborn baby, so her child could be raised in a quiet environment. Her intentions had been pure and he had advanced on her, forced her into an unclean alliance without even knowing her cause; her reason. He was…ashamed.

Blitz could only bring himself to cover her with a blanket before he left the room and shut the door behind him. He made calls and arranged a ride for her to go home immediately the next day, before he slumped back into his chair, unable to come to terms with what had just happened.

He looked back at the door despondently.

"Damn it."

* * *

**Author's Note: Finally, another update! Wow, there was just so much going on in this chapter and I had to do so much referencing and research and checking of my own storyline to make sure that everything fit. There are some elements that are old of place--if you folks do the math, you'll find an unborn Rayn in mommy's tummy means Blitz is 18. He sure doesn't talk like a teenager here, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt--he's a smart guy, if a little lonely. *ahem ahem* ^^ Or we could just ignore ages completely. I'm at your mercy there, readers.**

**This is really the first part of this massive flashback for Blitz, but I just couldn't wait to update. Razer and Rayn pop up again next chapter, I promise. I hope the mother I created for Rayn does some justice for herself, I tried to make her very slightly less hard-edged compared to when I first introduced her, she was older then than she is in this chapter. This lady was fun-loving before the crime wars but fierce if you crossed her wrong. And British. ^^ I also hope I didn't dead giveaway her being pregnant, or if you folks did figure it out, it wasn't right away.**

**Gilroy, I did a long search on finding a first name for Blitz, and Gilroy stuck because that's what I dubbed his father as: Roy. Hmm, what do you think?**

**I also had to research a drug that would work in this story, that actually exists. I found one. I'm not going to say what it is. ^^**

**Hopefully I'll have another update soon and I hope you all enjoyed this story in the meantime! Tell me what you thought of it! **

**Blackfire 18**


	11. An Agreement of Betrayal

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 11: An Agreement of Betrayal**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within; they are property of Naughty Dog.**

When Blitz's office door in Haven City opened and slammed shut the next day, promptly startling him from his packing, his stomach knotted so fiercely he had to choke his throat to stop himself from being sick; the memory of yesterday was too fresh and his guilt too close. He did not have to turn to see who had come to visit.

"Are we in a better mind for negotiations today?"

It was too early for this. While Blitz struggled with nausea both psychological and somatic, neither of these things seemed to have influenced the woman who had caused him this upset. She had still come despite the consequences, despite the dangers. Though Blitz had been shocked and repulsed by her revelation…he still longed to have her for his own. Ehm, after, the child was born.

He chose to risk Krew's wrath (and consequently the weapons and men backing him) or sacrificing the racing empire he had promised himself—the empire he had already sloughed himself into up to the elbows.

A double-edged sword.

Blitz ignored the feminine voice and took a big gulp of the scotch he had just poured himself, not wasting time with a usual swish and taste, but downing it quickly in preparation for another, larger gulp as the voice behind him continued.

"Either we reach an agreement, or we open fire on your operations. Immediately."

"You plan to wipe out my entire establishment within the next six months? Every last breeding cockroach?" Blitz returned mildly, still blindly staring at the wall, gripping the glass of scotch in one hand and the other on the table to keep him steady. There was a pause.

"I would…rather it not come to that."

The hesitance in Evelyn's voice made Blitz turn to face her in disbelief. She stood only a few steps from his door in a wrinkled outfit that needed pressing, hair pulled back in a hurry, abdomen still swollen—at the far end of the room; an indication of their strained relationship so soon after his unwarranted advance on her. Her good friend's son and last of the Blitz line, was still a boy that she could not bring herself to destroy. Even after the stunt he had tried to pull last night, she had come back, still seeking cooperation of two very prominent crime lord names. She was either very passionate (no doubt swayed by hormonal imbalance), or very insane.

"My guess is that neither of us has changed our terms." Blitz watched her as she approached him cautiously from the other end of the room. Her expression was weary, the drugs must have barely just worn themselves out of her system, but her jaw was firmly set and her liquid golden eyes were ablaze. She had the stalk of a fatigued predator that still had some fight left to protect the progeny. Something told Blitz she would have come through storm, thug, hound, over fence, and shouldered locked door, to have reached him—to have reached an agreement. Blitz refilled his scotch as an excuse to look away from the impassioned woman.

"You still want a ridiculous amount of time-off, and I still want a ridiculous trade off."

"Nothing shorter than five years." Evelyn confirmed sternly.

"You ask for a lot, Mrs. Krew." Blitz emphasized his last words with venom.

Five years of peace between crime families was no laughing matter. Peace meant the losing of profits. Criminals bought weapons and gambling tickets to destroy their enemies and make money; many times they would kill one another in scuffles and set off all sorts of half-hazard battles for claims of land, wealth, even standing. The criminal reputation meant everything. Even those citizens not involved in the underground were still connected through what goods and services the crime lords provided—a downside to crime lords running the cities. The only money that was to be had was controlled by the crime lords. A citizen either worked for them or starved.

Blitz knew there was still money to be made elsewhere, _cleaner_ money, but not nearly as much as the numbers he was racking up now. Evelyn asked much. She seemed to follow his process of thought, and her mouth creased unfavorably.

"What I ask is reasonable." She responded coldly. "You're demanding that I raise my child in five years, then abandon my family and home, never to see them again; to give the rest of my life to you and become your plaything." She said frigidly, disgust written over her face. "That. Is unreasonable."

"I offered you either give me your racing assets, or yourself." Blitz calmly took another drink. "You could give up the track.'

"I have yet to hear you agree to my terms."

"Oh, I'll give you your five years," Blitz waved impatiently, "but you have yet to decide on mine. What will it be?"

"My lawyers will contact yours." Evelyn said sharply and abruptly spun on her heel and left Blitz's office, leaving Blitz with a burning stomach and unanswered questions.

* * *

Evelyn returned that evening with a lawyer in tow and the largest contract Blitz had ever seen—a document that both of their lawyers had drawn up together earlier that day with a dizzying amount of terms and conditions. In short, Evelyn would have her five years of peace, Mizo could do nothing the slightest bit malignant against her family in that time and she promised to cut all ties to the Krew crime family at the end of those five years. She agreed to expose nothing of the contract to Krew and Mizo agreed to—

Blitz choked on his fresh scotch. His attorney, who had been reading the contract out loud for translating purposes, stopped and looked up at Blitz's outburst.

"Really?! That's what you've decided?"

Neither Evelyn or her lawyer appeared to be amused. It was hard to say which of them was more stone-faced. The woman leveled her gaze at him, her posture rigid and her eyes hard.

"You disagree, Mr. Blitz?" her lawyer spoke for her.

"No, I'm just—surprised. You haven't spoken to your husband about this?"

Still Evelyn did not speak.

"That does not concern you, Mr. Blitz. If you would continue, Mr. Jackson?" her lawyer spoke again and Mr. Jackson obliged; but Blitz was no longer really listening. His mind was hard at work on the future—his delicious future. He could hardly sit still, but he did to save face. Then again, he could always blame a table dance on alcohol, couldn't he?

It was some time before the change in drone caught his attention.

"Do either of you request any changes?" Evelyn's lawyer said.

"No." Evelyn said immediately.

Blitz was a little slower to agree, not having paid any attention for the last half hour, but when his lawyer tapped his shoulder, he spoke up.

"Seems pretty solid."

Both lawyers moved forward to hand their client's pens. Evelyn took hers and tightly scratched out her name on the dotted line. Blitz's cursive was a little more patient.

Signed and dated, the attorney's gathered up the documents spread over Blitz's desk. Blitz shifted in his chair slightly. Evelyn did not move as she continued to watch the man across from her. She only budged when her law man passed by her chair with his armload of contract.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Johnson." Evelyn nodded politely to her lawyer, her voice warm for the first time since she had walked into Blitz's office. He smiled to her cordially.

"A pleasure as always, Mrs. Krew." He said.

The lawyers had gone to finalize the papers, taking a hefty sum with them that left Blitz thinking he should have gone to law school. He didn't care much for the legal mumbo-jumbo, but he did understand that Evelyn had agreed to become his. She would rather relinquish her hard-won racing business and leave it in the care of Krew, than raise her own child; the one she had fought for tooth and nail? Had she no morals? Principles? Perhaps she thought herself unfit for motherhood, or maybe, just maybe, she really was attracted to him…? It was she who did not wish to escalate to an all out war and gamble on an all or nothing basis when he had been ready to roll the dice. Evelyn Cunningham could not bring herself to harm Roy Blitz's prodigious son? He hated to admit it to any, but Gilroy Blitz looked very like his father, and this was the man Evelyn knew and cared for. Was it really so outrageous to believe?

_SMACK_.

Blitz's cheek was on fire. He was too shocked to move—too shocked to believe that the woman standing before him had struck him across the face with the force of a wrecking ball. It really hurt. When she spoke, her voice was the most cold, most jaded he had ever heard in his life.

"You, are not your father's son. Your father was a kind and honest man, and you are nothing like him. To think I'd deceived myself into believing there was a shred of your father's decency in you; but that was only in face, never in mind." Her voice lowered. "You may forget it, but I never will."

Her outburst stung almost as much as her strike. Being compared to his father by one who knew him so well hurt. Her arrows pierced an old wound and their poison was consuming his identity; who he thought he was. He felt like a child again; an angry child that waited up every night for the father that never came home for him.

"Hey! My father deserved what he got when I—" Blitz began, standing roughly from his chair to round his desk, but with lightning quick reflexes, Evelyn spun from her march out, threw herself at him, and slammed him against his own desk, her sharp nails digging so deeply into his throat he began to bleed. He was pinned more by his shock of her reaction than by her physical strength.

"You will _not_touch me from this moment until five years after my child's birth." She snapped fiercely. "You have what you asked for!" Her viselike grip tightened further. Her words pinning him more strongly than chains ever could. "When I return after those five years, I will make your life a living nightmare. You'll regret _ever_ having asked my servitude and when I'm through, you will be _begging_Krew to take me back." And she released him as quickly as she had come upon him. Blitz had pushed himself up to an elbow as he rubbed at his throat with his other hand, still flailing under the mental attack, disbelieving that this upright aristocrat had outright attacked him. He could only watch as she withdrew. Evelyn stopped a few paces from the door.

"Oh, and Mizo. If you breach our agreement, no matter how minor the infraction, I will personally kill you myself."

Blitz's jaw hung open as Evelyn opened the door and passed through it.

"Good evening."

* * *

Gilroy Blitz returned to Kras City, leaving the Krew crime family well alone in their little heaven of Haven City. He developed whatever contacts he could address and hired hands that were willing to join the Mizo crime family, but building the ranks went very slowly, almost painfully so. There were many times Blitz wished Evelyn had just signed over her tracks to him so he could be rolling in the money and racing for fun, but she veritably owned all of the tracks worth racing on—all the tracks recognized as official racing circuits. All the tracks making money. Blitz's best tracks were dirt ones, hardly worth their salt.

Many nights he lay awake those five long years, alone in his bed, unconsciously grinding his teeth in impatience.

It didn't matter, he had to keep reminding himself.

He had gone over the contract many, many times. First party of the third party blah blah blah…Evelyn's assets would go to her succeeding family member, her husband, when she left him—a small statement in the sea of conditions that made up their contract.

It was perfect.

The instant Evelyn Cunningham was safe in his arms, he was going to destroy the Krew crime family. Those five long years, he had planned the fall of Krew and his cronies, fabricate the entire affair as a disastrous accident, a fluke of Krew's own ammunitions going off in the center of his snug little nest. Then, with her family dead, the property would default back to her and the Mizo family would absorb all of the racing assets. He would have Evelyn and her racing empire. That thought alone kept him going for those five years.

To keep himself occupied for the rest of the time, he punished families that did not pay their loans on time. He was careful to ensure that the people he cut down were in no way related to the Krew crime family, or he vetoed their sentences. He was hoping the interest would come back to him, but many families just weren't making the same money as they had been with the underground war using up so many resources. There was one family Mizo had ordered killed for erroneous amounts of unpaid loans; they were trying to send their son to some private school. He was unawares this family had reared the racing champion he would come to hire years later.

Executing people kept the living in line, but it was so trite. Still. It was something to do.

But come the end of the week—those five years would be up. Blitz could hardly think straight. Finally, his end of the agreement was rising to greet him with the dawn of each sunny day. The consummation he had so yearned for. He felt only the mildest nagging guilt for taking her from her child, a baby he did not yet even know the gender of, but this feeling passed in the swell of satisfaction that replaced it. Evelyn would soon be his.

Evelyn had already been to see him, arranging her transport and baggage to be taken with her. Blitz made her agree to a specific time of her leaving Krew's mansion while he designed his attack on the household for the moments after her departure. He had already paid off snipers and detonation specialists to spec the area and determine ahead of time, where to lay guns and bombs.

Evelyn would leave in a black limousine from Krew's home at precisely 8:00 pm, the bombs should be in place and the plunger just waiting to be depressed, but that could wait a moment or two until Krew left for his usual poker game. The sniper rifles would be pointed at every exit minus the back, and snipers ordered to shoot the first thing that exited the doors after that designated time. Blitz wanted to ensure that Krew, if no one else, would die, despite the insurance of his house exploding around him. The man was surprisingly difficult to make a clean kill of. Blitz had to be sure that nothing could go wrong.

* * *

The day of reckoning came.

7:58 pm. The sun had already set in the western sky, leaving only the faintest trace of its glorious light in a shy golden span on the horizon. In the distant eastern skies, threatening storm clouds swelled with the promise of lightning and rain in its slowly churning, dark curls. The red streetlights were already on, as were the lights in the mansion beyond. It was a massive dark mass in the damp night air; stone walls were eerily lit by upward lights and few of its many windows cast a warm glow into the darkness.

Blitz had settled comfortably next to one sniper; the sniper had his rifle trained on the front door. It was strangely quiet, but then Blitz could hardly hear from the roar of blood pulsing through his head. This was just too exciting. Why didn't he execute crime lords more often? Well, this one was special either way. He wanted to see Krew fall with his own eyes. The ugly, heavy set man that had unfairly stolen Evelyn from him, the only woman he had ever cared to pursue, he wanted to see that man fall.

Evelyn had been ordered to leave through the back and take that limousine to Kras City. Blitz knew Krew liked to exit from the front and walk his wife's exquisite garden before heading off to his poker games.

Now he waited. Oh, how slowly the minutes ticked by. He checked his watch again.

8:01 pm.

No vehicles had vacated the premises. Odd. Maybe his dearest was just saying her final goodbyes, as final as she would make them. She had agreed to divulge nothing of the contract. He doubted she would actually tell her family why she was leaving, she was "just going out for a drive."

…

Really. How long did that take?

Finally, a black limousine pulled out from the back of the mansion, heading in the direction of the transit to Kras City. Evelyn was safely underway. Blitz watched the car go, imagining the woman's curves in the negligee he had purchased for her as she lay on his bed, just waiting for him, was almost too much to bear. Poor Krew, he had no idea what he was loosing tonight. Blitz looked back at the mansion, grinning horribly.

Evelyn's words five years ago rang back to him on that grassy knoll.

_Nightmare…regret… asked my servitude…back to Krew…_

But Blitz swatted the hostile vows away. He had ways of making his subordinates more compliant. He was not afraid to hurt, provoke, manipulate, imprison to get what he wanted—of course—he hoped he would not have to show his more cruel side to his delicate, dangerous prize. As a younger man, Blitz had respected, even revered Evelyn her polite and gentle ways, all he wanted was to live the life he should have lived with her if Krew had never come into the picture. Two affectionate lovers side by side, enjoying dinners together, sharing the sun on the beach, ruthlessly doing business with all the go-to CEO's of companies they didn't already own, haggling, fighting and a generous make up afterward…That was what he wanted to share with her, but she had been so unwilling.

He could still have that dream. She would officially become his today and he would try his damndest to win her if he had to.

Blitz tried to focus again on the situation at hand, too many delightful things going on at once.

"The instant he's out of the door…" Blitz muttered lowly to the man beside him. The sniper settled a little more closely to his rifle, nestling it snugly into one shoulder. Blitz felt like he was on fire, the air around him scorching. He didn't blink. He didn't breathe. He hated waiting. Hated it. Instant gratification was better than silent anticipation any day. Those five years had nearly killed him. But here, at this very peak of moments, Blitz's fantasies were becoming a reality—if only Krew would open the door!

_Come on, Krew!_

As if coming to Blitz call, the lights went down and front door to the mansion opened in the night air. Blitz heart was hammering violently in his chest. Krew stepped out, shutting the door behind hi—wh-what? Even in the dark of the night, Blitz squinted, body tensing as he surged upwards on his elbows. The body that stepped out from the safety of the mansion was too slender. The hair was all wrong. Two steps forward was all the confirmation Blitz needed.

"N-No, WAIT!"

_BANG!_

The explosion deafened Blitz, but nothing was more deafening than the silent, pitiful, unforgiving collapse of the body only a few steps from the door. Blitz's heart had stopped, his body had gone chillingly cold.

Before he realized what was happening, Blitz was on his feet and running to where the person he had ordered shot fell. There she lay, sapphire hair wreathing her head, limbs helplessly bent, bleeding dark life blood on the pavement.

Evelyn Cunningham.

Absolute shock kept his horror at bay, but it did nothing to stop denial. He stared at her for what felt like ages, thinking wildly of how cruelly his eyes deceived him—seeing the only one he did not want dead before him. No. No no no. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He saw, he _saw_her leave. She was on her way to Kras in that black limo. She was heading for his home right this very second. He had shot Krew, Krew! Not her. This was Krew, playing some childish prank on him. Slowly, he knelt before the woman, his trembling hand reaching out to touch her. He jerked back when he made contact. She was real.

No…

Could—could she be saved?

He reached out again, his hands shaking horribly, one hand stretched for her far hip, the other supporting her head, and he pulled her to rest in his lap. When she came to rest, he pressed two fingers to her neck. The pulse was weak. Her breath was faint and erratic. A crimson blossom grew steadily over her white blouse. The damage was done. There was no coming back from this.

"Ev-Evelyn?" he croaked, his voice giving way in his tight throat. Years stretched in the span of seconds before the woman's eyes fluttered open. Blitz heart jumped. Her eyes were dull as they rolled over him.

"Gilroy?" she murmured, complementing the name with a weak smile. "I broke the contract…but then…so did you."

Blitz's mind was still in overdrive from his slaughtered sabotage. Had she seen his men wiring her home with planted explosives? A slight shake of her head confirmed his suspicions.

"Too soon…if you had…waited just a day." she wheezed, her strength fading, and she knew it. She changed tact. "I knew you would…attempt it. The house is…empty."

She smiled up at him ruefully, a reminiscent spark of her former self there, before she was seized by a racking cough. Blitz tried desperately to make her comfortable, but could find no way of doing it. When she calmed, Blitz noticed flecks of blood on her lips. When he studied her face, he saw it was creased with pain and sadness—and her plan had finally been laid bare to him. She had calculated these last five years, perhaps never intending to fulfill her end of the bargain, to this very moment of sacrifice.

"You—you walked out that door—knowing what was to come." He said quietly.

But Evelyn would not answer him.

"Gilroy, your father loved you…as much as I love my daughter."

"Evelyn…"

The woman inhaled a shaky breath.

"Never…forget."

The light in her golden eyes faded. Her body slackened in his grip, ruby painted lips parted, eyes closed. Emotion overcame him and Gilroy broke down. He hugged the brave woman to him, the giving soul he had only ever selfishly taken from, and hugged her tightly to him. He traded his warmth for her cooling body, tears rolling down his face to mingle with the last she had shed. She shook when he did, a betrayal of sobs he could not fully contain. The crimson blossom over her breast stained his shirt, binding them together too late.

"Evelyn."

* * *

**Author's Note: Ack! I promised Rayn and Razer and both only get a mention in this chapter. Sorry!!! Like I said, this story has completely run away with me. My muse basically tells me to sit down, shut up, and write what I'm told. But like Razer's long history, I had to write Blitz and Evelyn's too because they are substantial characters in this story. I did say now that Rayn is reaching the top, she's going to bump heads with who is at the top already, and Blitz therefore HAS to make more appearances. This certainly does not mean Razer will disappear. He's still got an ace up his sleeve, unless his boss drops a bomb on him. (AH! Not literally! Or maybe...?? You know, Razer DID disappear in the game after the championship race...) Have I gotten you folks riled up yet?? (runs from stampeding fans)**

**This chapter was so sad! I actually did have a bit of a tough time writing it. Mostly just trying to cast it all in my mind. Lots of dastardly things going on. I wanted to write some of it from Evelyn's point of view, but I abstained because I was afraid she might become the "Rayn" I've cast. So I gave Blitz all the spotlight. It was tricky. That alone is enough to give in to watching TV with an "I'll come back to it later" excuse... Trying to nail down what people should say at so traumatic a time is hard, so I listened to lots of sad instrumental music. I think it helped. ^^; Evelyn's last words were the hardest to write! I couldn't decide what I wanted her to say. At first I had her hallucinating Blitz was his father for all the juicy drama, but then I realized she really had been planning all along--then the words came. Still, I mulled over it for three days. And I tried my darndest to differentiate Evelyn from Rayn, and Razer and Blitz's fascination with Mrs. Krew. Small differences maybe, but then that's where all the symbolism comes in right? (Get LOST Freud!!!)**

**And wow! Sticking to my own timeline was hard too! Oh what fresh torment I orchestrated upon myself! This story is so huge, I'm not used to having to adhere to one! I dunno if I should write out the Yellow Cup or glaze it. I want to do both. Then I go watch TV. HAHA!**

**There are still a few more chapters to come (WHA?!) AND an epilogue! Wish me luck! Please review, you lovely fan people you!**

**Blackfire 18**


	12. Shall We Dance?

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 12: Shall We Dance?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are property of Naughty Dog, etc.**

Clouds of Wasteland sand spiraled up into the darkness behind a swiftly moving Firebat. The sun had set and Razer had taken a head start in beating Rayn back to Kras. She had half a mind to tail him and demand her priceless earrings back, or at least gloat about the information she had just received from one of her informants, but she had lingered a little too long atop the precipice he had captured her on; prolonged by the relish of the final remnants of her plan coming to fruition. She could have caught up to him, removed those earrings from his pocket, and smiled a devious smile of _his_ being in the dark for once.

Her earrings. What could he possibly want with them? The precursor pieces were worth something, certainly, but their sentimental value was worth more to her. As she hurtled through the dark deserts, she scanned for the Havoc. She could not make out hide nor hair of the spine armor or any puff of sands rising in his wake. The car was darkly colored and a difficult object to pick out of the desert in the dark, perhaps not impossible, but surely the dust he would have kicked up would still be settling? She looked. There was just no trace of him. All that was left in his wake were shallow valleys of tire tracks in the rolling sands. He was gone. Returned to his boss no doubt to report on what had transpired. Well, he certainly left in a hurry didn't he?

Only a sparse few miles later, did Rayn understand why.

She saw it cresting over a sand dune; smoke and fire greeted her vision below her. Her heart stopped. Marauders.

She would have run into these nasty, desert hardened people, with an empty weapons carriage and only a single charge of turbo. She would not have gotten far. Quickly taking evasive maneuvers, Rayn steered clear of the wreckage and pressed harder on the accelerator pedal, fear rising to nearly consume her curiosity. Here again was another instance Razer had planned ahead on her behalf, protecting her from her own naïve oversights. Well, er, that was if he had been telling the truth on that cliff top.

An image of Razer dropping the tools of her detainment from the top of that cliff came rushing back to her. What was he thinking?

A quiet gratitude filled the churning doubt, but she drew her guard up despite herself. Being raised a crime lord's daughter did not come without its suspicion and cynicism of her fellow man. Razer was her enemy and in the direct service of Mizo, the crime boss she had to overthrow. This was the same crime boss that provided his salary, the same man that had paid him to do what he loved most: Race—why in Mar's name would he betray his boss? There would be no capital gain in this betrayal and he risked the fury of Mizo. It just…didn't make any sense.

Well, when she read the documents her contact had found for her, many more reins would be in her fist.

Rayn's thoughts turned from Razer as she approached the city lights of Kras. She could not decide between returning to her team, or going straight home to a warm, cooked meal, a hot bath, and the juicy document loaded with just the evidence she needed to corner a certain rival crime lord. She had alienated both sides; leaving her team in the bar as she stormed off and berating her butler over the phone for withholding information from her. The wound still ached, but it felt strangely healed too somehow. Razer he…he had helped her to forget, if only for a little while. Mostly because of her burning questions about him (and he could be so damn irritating sometimes flaunting that haughty superiority of his), and he had let her get so close to him, his emerald eye watching her over his shoulder as she touched his back—

_Ahh! Stop that Rayn, you're just inviting all sorts of trouble there. Focus! Your team or your home?_

The outer city lights cast a warm glow in the rapidly chilling night air over the desert and Rayn did not slow until her wheels spun on familiar asphalt. Usually, she could have cared a lick for the speed limits conveniently posted every block or so (racing towns seemed to induce a little racing vibe in everyone and immense headaches for the police force…) but her indecision was literally slowing her progress.

Finally, Rayn decided to draw out the delicious triumph of acquired information to visit her team. She couldn't let them think that she hated them—they were her ticket to success after all. She would make absolute surety of that.

* * *

Rayn was surprised by the ambush that awaited her at the entrance to the racing garage.

Jak, Sig, Ashelin and Torn had all formed a semi-circle around her the second she entered, barring her from moving any further into the common room. Looking into each face, she found guilt and apology and her spirits lifted. They were sorry. She so wanted to forgive them all then and there, to forget that Blitz had ever uprooted the shoots of hard won friendship, but she felt torn. Pride told her that she deserved a humbled display on bended knee from these people, or a verbal apology in the very least, while the ache of her father's death fresh again in her mind deterred her from revisiting the painful memories.

"Rayn," Jak said from her far left; his brows furrowed, his timidity to broach the subject complete. "We need to talk."

The sincerity in his voice moved her and Rayn broke.

"Oh Jak, it's all right—"

"No, it isn't. Please, sit."

Speechless, Rayn quietly followed her racers until she, Jak, and Sig were sitting on one cushioned bench; Ashelin and Torn before them. She noted that she had been surrounded again as she shifted slightly between Sig and Jak. Usually, such an encircled environment made Rayn uncomfortable, reminded too quickly of school scraps or other girls unhappy with the popularity of the "rich, spoiled girl" (until Rayn found her niche in a specialty trade) but this circle was warmer, not threatening. Except now the quiet was getting to her. She studied unhappy faces, eyes that would not meet hers, a shifting of weight here and there, until she looked at Jak.

Even here, Jak seemed to stumble for words.

"Rayn, I…I'm sorry about your father." His voice was low and his fingers fidgeted.

"Jak."

"I mean, Krew maybe, well he wasn't, I mean—"

"Jak," Rayn placed a hand on his knee which effectively silenced him. His cerulean eyes sought hers for forgiveness. "My father was a decadent man, I know that. I suppose I could even grasp your reasoning behind, ah, what happened." She removed her hand, not daring to linger too long, and clasped it with her other. "You said you were sorry. That's all I needed to hear." Jak gave her a relieved smile; a mountain had been lifted from him. She leaned slightly toward him with a playful smile. "What confuses me, is why everyone else is standing here." Rayn said, glancing with obvious furtiveness about the group.

"I came for moral support," Sig said and nodded to Rayn, "to protect them from you."

"From me? Sig, you should know me better than that!" Rayn replied, embarrassed.

"I remember a few heated temper tantrums you threw back in the day." Sig shrugged with a smile that revealed his teasing her. "A warzone has nothing on an upset Rayn." Rayn made a heated sound of insult. Sig crossed his arms as his face grew more solemn. Despite his feelings towards Krew and how his former boss had abandoned him during a metalhead assault, it wasn't fair to take it out on the man's daughter. "And I'm…sorry I never told you sooner."

"We're sorry you had to find out the way you did." Ashelin said, her hand making a half-hearted gesture of condemning the past; Torn nodding to match the redhead.

"I don't blame you for that blighter's, I mean Blitz's announcement, though I do wonder how he came to know about it." The team thought in silence a moment before Rayn continued, waving the question away. "Still, I would feel a lot better if someone laid him flat the next time we see him." She grinned deviously to a round of cheers.

"That's my girl!"

"Broken nose, or missing teeth?"

"Or groin? These boots aren't steel toed for nothing."

Rayn smiled and stood, glad to have recovered her team so quickly. They must have felt the same reprieve, reassured at her quick recuperation from such devastating news, the change in them had been drastic after she had been greeted with such grim severity. Suppose their friendship truly meant something. Sig patted her back as Ashelin touched her shoulder and the group began to disperse for the bar, drinks were in order. All but Jak wandered out of the common room. Rayn looked at Jak expectantly; it was obvious he had more to say.

"Hey," he said softly, "thanks."

"It's all right. I'm just…happy to know how it really happened." Rayn replied with equal reverence.

"I was afraid you might hate me for knowing."

Rayn lightly shook her head and grazed the side of her shoe on the carpet; her next words made her vulnerable.

"I couldn't hate you, Jak. You're my shining star; the racing champion that will win us our antidotes." Rayn turned from him, summoning despair. "I still can't understand what my father was thinking."

Jak's smile was genuine as he clasped her arm. Rayn had to concentrate to stop from biting her lip at the knotting in her stomach. It would kill him to know that her father helped her down the path of criminality even now. He so wanted to believe in her innocence. Jak was simply too sweet and he drove the guilty nails further into her heart.

"I knew we could trust you." Rayn flinched internally as the hammer slammed against the nails. "You may be Krew's daughter, but you are honest and kind. I'm glad to know that some good can come from a crime lord."

Rayn desperately stuffed away her guilt and coughed lightly to disguise a shamefaced chuckle as embarrassed humility, valiantly keeping her face composed. She dropped her eyes shyly and thanked him, unsure if she would be able to meet his gaze again. While they may have been lying to each other since their meeting all those weeks ago, Jak had confessed, while she still hid her secrets. She had to steer him from matters of trust before she burst out with the truth.

"I'm surprised you came back so quick though. I thought you'd be upset for a lot longer." Jak admitted uncomfortably, his hand dropping back to his side. The woman shrugged and lilted her head to one side.

"Well, it's too critical a time to be upset over old hurts and, you know me, there's always work to be done. Parts to order, tools to replace, calls to make—speak of the devil." Rayn reached for her cellular phone and snapped it open with an apology for Jak. "Hello?" She listened for a moment, then looked at Jak and rolled her eyes. He smiled. "Yes of course, I'll be right there." Rayn snapped the phone shut again and pointed at Jak, all joking business. "Now, I want you to go into that bar, have a drink or two, and forget about this whole mess. Your mind should only be on the race tomorrow."

"Will you be back? We should talk strategy." Jak said.

"Rayn's not leaving is she?" Sig shouted from the bar room.

"We have races to review!" Torn added.

"I'll be right back!" Rayn returned with a laugh for being eavesdropped on. She shook her head at Jak as he shrugged innocently.

"You've got ten minutes." Ashelin shouted.

"Guess I'd better hurry then." Rayn said lowly so only Jak could hear. "Save me a drink?"

"Hey wait," Jak hailed her as she began to make her way out. He caught up to her and studied the woman's face. Rayn wasn't sure what to think as she stood and watched his eyes move over her. "I knew something was different. Your earrings are gone."

Rayn's eyes went wide and her hand automatically went up to her ears in reflex; Razer's mouth on her ear was the sensation that ripped to the forefront of her mind. She desperately batted the images away. Ahhh! She needed a good explanation! Playing the guiltless game sometimes meant playing dumb, but all the while, excuses were racing through her mind.

"Oh. The pair that are missing were given to me by my father. I took them out so I could…remember him." The fabricated excuse immediately threw Jak off the subject, but Rayn was quick to restore his humor again, so she continued more lightly. "I just must have forgotten to put them back on. You have an excellent eye, Jak, that must be what makes you such a great racer."

The compliment seemed to mend the injured wound again and Rayn sighed in relief. She had completely forgotten her earrings were gone. Yes, Razer took them, but her mind was not focused on the fact that they were gone, but on _how_ he had taken them.

"So, save me a drink?" Rayn grinned at him.

"I can't promise too much with this group." Jak chuckled.

"Just don't let them tear up the place." Rayn said over her shoulder as she made her way out.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll save you a drink."

Rayn turned halfway to smile at Jak and almost missed a stair. She recovered herself and could not stop the heat from climbing in her cheeks.

"Maybe I shouldn't have a drink."

Jak winked at her and walked into the bar room. Rayn's stomach was fluttering as she walked the short hallway to the exit. Dear, sweet Jak. Oh, if only they had met in grade school, she might have renounced her father's title and lived that 'happily ever after.'

She positively adored the boy for his trust. She felt sorry she had betrayed him from the moment they met.

* * *

"Rayn dear, I'm so terribly sorry for not telling you about your father. I've wanted to so many times, but your father requested I never relate the details of his passing. He was insistent. I had no idea your not knowing would be so devastating, that harlequin Blitz! A clown for the media. He's a rude man, he is. I would have told you ages ago, but it was your father's last wishes—I would have disgraced his memory!"

Rayn had entered her house and her butler was immediately by her side like an overexcited dog, gushing apologies, but all of Rayn's mind to scold had been eradicated since she had met with her team. The warmth stayed with her and she was quick to forgive her butler.

"Gerard, it's all right. It will pass." The butler's mad cries of apology were slowing and she flashed him a reassuring nod and smile. "I'm all right. Now, you gave me a ring, what for? Please tell me it was for good reason and not just an excuse to apologize like mad."

"That was half the reason," he smiled sheepishly. Gerard seemed to gather his wits about him after such an unraveling and fished in his inside coat pocket before he withdrew a sealed envelope. "This arrived for you a few hours ago."

Rayn's eyes scoured the envelope face, blank except for her name written in neat cursive.

"Who delivered it?" she asked.

"Just a young delivery boy," her butler supplied as she opened the letter, "he said it was an invitation from Mizo."

"So it is." Rayn murmured as she began reading. At the bottom of the letter she exhaled a derisive "huh" and handed the letter back to Gerard to read. "It would appear I've been invited to a ball tomorrow night."

Rayn made her way up the sprawling staircase towards her chambers, where she knew her documents would be waiting for her. She would scan them, ride an elated high for the next several hours, and celebrate with her team. This night had gone from abject hell to actually panning out fairly well.

"Would it be wise to attend, my dear? Considering your suspicions?" Gerard spoke up from the foyer, watching his mistress ascend the last steps. She looked over her shoulder at him and did not bother to hide a wicked smile.

"Oh, I have every intention of going to Mizo's little party." Rayn mounted the second floor. "And every reason to."

* * *

Rayn studied herself one last time in the full length mirror and adjusted her sash to fall a little more nicely from her waist to her hip. The satin, olive green gown was her absolute favorite and she only sported it for the most formal occasions. She was pleased the dress still fit after months of not wearing it; it had been tailored specifically for her dimensions and complimented her every curve until it belled out in lovely ruffles just above her ankles, which were smartly clasped into matching heels. She turned to inspect the reverse, minding the slit that opened to just above her knee on one side, her back bare as the dress cut an open swath of material to the small of her back. (She had forgotten just how much skin this gown revealed.) That looked fine, so she returned to the front and fluffed up the layered satin sleeves that hung below her shoulder line. Rayn turned her attention to her hair. She had taken a different approach to her hair; she had folded her hair neatly over three flat fans, which gave it a nice water falling effect. Having it braided for so long, it became an impossible knot of sapphire tresses, but she crimped and brushed until they behaved. She touched each ornamental clip cresting each fan of hair to ensure it was firmly in place, since her hair liked to rebel on her in formal attire. Another inspection of her ruby painted lips and light green eye shadow, and finally her familiar pendent necklace and earrings, which she had to change because Razer had taken her most prized, and everything seemed to be in order.

Shyly, Rayn wondered if Razer would be attending the ball that night. Mizo had "Blitz" hosting the party because he was too big and secretive a figure to attend his own affair. Surely Blitz would have invited him for public humiliation of his shocking failure in the Blue Eco Cup. And if Blitz had not invited him, Mizo would.

Rayn's gloved had slipped to her thigh, reassuring herself that the weapon concealed there was secured in her garter. Father made all kinds. She also had a copied document hidden in the bosom of her dress. Everything she needed.

"Rayn dear! Your transport is here." Gerard called from the first floor.

Satisfied, Rayn gave a final spin; pleased with the light lift of her dress on the air, she picked up her formal purse, a tiny little thing barely large enough for a billet fold, and slung it over her shoulder before heading down the stairs.

Gerard was waiting for her in the foyer, her invitation sitting pristinely on a small pillow, which all fell to the floor when he caught sight of her.

"Just the impression I was aiming for." Rayn grinned as she descended.

"You, you look positively stunning, Rayn dear." Gerard clumsily stooped for the square of paper. "I-I'm not sure you can go to this gala without an escort."

"I'll try not to pick up every boy there." Rayn teased and took the invitation from him when he offered it.

"I'll have the rifle ready." He said, but not without a note of seriousness, which made Rayn blush. Gerard had always been like a second father to her; a father for her when her own could not be. "Don't be out too late, or I'll call the cavalry."

"I'll be fine." Rayn assured him, when his words turned darker, as she exited out the door he held open for her and they both walked to the limousine waiting. He opened the car door as well.

"Be careful." He said quietly as she stooped inside, and his anxious gaze watched her over the door frame.

"If I'm not back before two, do call and remind me of the time." Rayn smiled gently, hoping to ease even the masked words of danger to her butler. He nodded gravely and shut the door, waving as the vehicle made its way into the sunset.

* * *

If Rayn had been expecting just a little bash, she had been completely wrong.

Throngs of people were squeezing their way into the constricting double doors of a beautiful building, showing invitations for admittance to the soiree being held inside. It looked like most of the criminal underground had shown up for the event simply disguised as a celebration for something or other. Well, at least she hadn't overdressed, Rayn thought as couples passed by her in their best formal attire. Men and women watched her as she moved forward, murmuring things about "Krew's daughter" and whatnot. Single men in particular seemed very interested in her, though some were more reserved than others as they waited for her to pass before catching a glimpse of her backside.

Charming.

She flashed her invitation to a flustered usher and passed through the arches to the interior. If the outside had been lovely, than the imperial designs within was breathtaking. A golden lit ballroom extended before her, chandeliers adorned with draping glass diamonds crowned the tiered ceiling, walls were lined with numerous, proud coat of arms, clothed tables littered the area around the dance floor as dancers were already in swing to waltzing music. Rayn suddenly felt very small amidst the crowd of unfamiliar people and very alone without someone to sit or dance with, but she was careful to keep moving unless the men eyeing her decided to make their move in bulk.

Instead, she scanned for Blitz over shorter heads and around taller bodies. So far, she was having no luck finding the man. He was a sore thumb in a crowd when he wore his reporter suit of purple and orange, but he would be as black and white as the rest now, which made things all that more difficult for her.

Keeping frustration at bay, Rayn found a table that was empty of people and not too littered with other personal belongings to sit down, and slip her purse from her shoulder. There wasn't much in it of course, but the accessory served to complete the dress, just as many of the other women thought here, as their tiny purses lay strewn without their owners about the table. Seated not too far from the dance floor, Rayn watched the couples sway and turn in time to the music. Well, when she got bored looking for Blitz, at least the dancing would entertain her…or not…

Hardly having sat down, Rayn was accosted with hopefuls asking for a dance; hounds just waiting for the shot fowl to hit the ground and snap it up by the neck. She was on her toes coming up with polite excuses of refusal.

"No, I couldn't, I just ate."

"I've just been on the dance floor and I'm sitting for a rest."

"I'm waiting for someone."

They made themselves more annoying when they challenged her, but she tried to remain calmly firm. After about the tenth offer, Rayn was seriously considering breaking the closest champagne glass on the next male head, as her patience wore more and more thin. When another gloved hand appeared before her face, Rayn's composure had slipped.

"_Look_, I'm just not intere—"

But she shut up immediately when she saw whose palm was open before her. Her mouth hung open in the middle of her unfinished sentence as a three-piece suited Razer stood before her. He was—_gorgeous! _Dressed all in black except for the white undershirt and matching gloves that peaked out from the buttoned dinner jacket, everything about the man was sharp and lean, hinting at the muscular body hidden beneath. Tailored to a precise fit, every line was clean, even with his arm outstretched and the other behind his back. Tied smartly around his neck was the red and white ribbon that displayed the highest honor of racing medal, a golden wreath, below his white bowtie. Pinned to his lapel were three orders of other high racing honors, proud colors against the black backdrop of his jacket. A cologne differing from the usual spices she had come to associate him with enveloped her. The fragrance was light, but undeniably masculine with notes of rain and wood that was at once soothing and authoritative. This scent paired with his appearance made the man incredibly alluring; capable of tempting even the most detached, hard-nosed woman into ripping his dinner jacket open in a frenzied tackle to the floor. The entire effect left Rayn's limbs too jellied to act on the impulse. As if this wasn't enough, his jet black hair was neatly in place and his eyes—his emerald eyes never looked so brightly, so captivatingly green.

"May I have this dance?" he said.

All Rayn could do was stare at him, mouth open, completely numb. Her mind blank of anything but the stunning image of him in his handsome suit. She was silent so long that Razer retracted his hand and looked a few tables down to his left.

"If you are so reluctant, I could find another, much more willing partner."

Rayn followed his gaze to the table he was looking at where many young girls sat, twittering mad with excitement to have finally caught the notice of the racer. He winked at them and the flock of mindless little birds erupted into high pitched squeals and the table wobbled dangerously above their laps.

Razer was surprised when an arm was suddenly through his, elbow to elbow. He didn't even have to bait her with information in exchange to capture her for a few moments. The woman's eyes had yet to leave the table of girls. Hmm, hmm. Jealousy.

"Change of heart, or did something bite you?" Razer taunted, but Rayn did not rise to the bait.

"I believe you offered your hand to me, not the reverse. Are we not going to dance?" she smiled smoothly over her somewhat overzealous sweep to accept his request. Her recovery was not full as still some part of her dedicated thought to more barbaric, physical functions.

Razer led her to the dance floor and she kept his pace until they actually reached it. Rayn was beginning to have second thoughts. People would watch them; her dance with the retired champion, recently disgraced, the gossip would run wild. And—and she hadn't danced in awhile—

Razer took advantage of her arm slung through his when she lagged and pulled her forward. When he turned to face her and clasp the appropriate hands, she hesitated to place her hand on his shoulder. He wrapped his hand to the small of her back, while the others were clasped out before them, and pulled her closer until she relented. He was much more forceful when she was uncertain. The thought was sending those tremors from her spine again and she furiously blocked them out. Good God, why did he have to look so _handsome?_ His cologne was all around her again with double the force, steadily eroding at coherent thought. It was throwing her muddled mind into chaos—her motor functions were slow and unresponsive, her heart was hammering, her body was too hot. He was going to see it in her cheeks—and he—he was so close! It would be so obvious. This only amplified her panic and consequentially, the heat. She was going to start panting soon…hyperventilating, something. Too _close!_

_Easy girl, you can do this. Don't let him overwhelm you; he's been in your personal space before. _

_That doesn't help!_

_Oh, shut up! Just—just think of something else! No, no. Just stop thinking!_

So Rayn ceased to think. Instead, she became very aware of physical sensation. The hand that held hers out to lead was strong but soft. She acutely felt the material of his gloves on her bare back. His hands through the fabric were warm and his hold was…gentle. She looked into his eyes, searching them for the source of this sudden mellow temperament, and she was struck again by how green they were. It was all she could do to stop herself from trembling in his grasp at his controlled power. He pushed them in time to match the other dancers already in the waltz.

His emerald eyes had not strayed from hers since they had reached the floor and Rayn had to fight to keep her eyes from rapidly flickering in all directions; so she forced herself to stare into his face, er, between his eyebrows at least.

Razer seemed to take her in for a moment before he spoke and Rayn quietly looked into his emerald eyes.

"You look…" Razer paused to find the right word, but Rayn's mind was furiously filling the blank for him.

Lovely. Beautiful. Stunning. Enchanting. Exquisite.

"Unmatched."

Her mind hit a mental wall with concussive force.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked dubiously.

"They're off-color, your shoes. They do not match your dress." He supplied unhelpfully.

Of course. Rayn should not have expected any less. But she would not be outdone this time.

"You're medals aren't in alphabetical order." Rayn returned, a simpering smile on her lips, happy to have a ready retort for once and ready for the verbal spar. Razer returned her smile.

"They're chronological."

"They're gaudy."

"They're necessary."

Rayn inhaled a mocking gasp.

"Just like my shoes."

Razer was smiling that quietly pleased smile again. She knew she was getting better at holding her own and so did he.

"There are those claws, kitten. I was beginning to worry." He murmured so lowly that Rayn had to strain to hear over the music; but when he spoke again it was more clearly. And clearly bored. He scored the first jab. His win. Back to business.

"You are brave to be here. Did it not occur to you, this whole affair could be a trap?"

Rayn shrugged off one of the very same ghosts that had plagued her mind about tonight and matched Razer's indifferent tone.

"Mizo likes to stay popular by throwing bases on a regular basis. It was about time I got an invitation."

Missing the humor, the racer was not impressed with her answer. One of his eyebrows quirked up.

"You should be with your father."

"With him?" Rayn said after a moment's confusion, afraid to read into the statement for what it sounded like, but he confirmed her doubts.

"All the mistakes you make. You assume too much. Your illusions of romantic idealisms in crime are inexistent; there is no honor here, my dear. Walking into this building will be much easier than walking out."

"Oh," Rayn was giggling and finally Razer's brow furrowed, puzzled by her reaction. "I thought there was something to be afraid for. You think I didn't bring any friends. Well, after our little rendezvous in the desert, I planned accordingly." Rayn gave a little shake of her head in self-satisfaction. It was true, Rayn had called earlier that day to arrange backup to arrive before she did to the party. They were armed guards who had been in her father's service, well acquainted to stealth on entry and exit of the site, professional assassins. Razer's words had not fallen on deaf ears. "Now, about my earrings…"

"They're mine now." He cut across her and abruptly closed the book on any further discussion about it. "Are you racing in the championship?" he said, a question that hardly seemed worth asking, but simply idle chatter so she would stop gawking at him like a thunderstruck schoolgirl. The rapid change of tact had her pulling stops for her questioning the location of her earrings, but Rayn was already on her toes when she tangoed with Razer now, prepared to match his erratic discussions, and she was careful to take this new dangerous question in stride with a light, teasing reply.

"Are you so concerned? Or is your boss?" Rayn raised one eyebrow, watching for any twitch or tell, but Razer's expression did not change. She continued. "If I was, it's not like I have to worry you'll be on the tracks."

"I'm not?" Razer said, but his voice hinted at just the opposite and Rayn's step faltered.

"You are?" Rayn murmured in disbelief. Razer firmly pulled her back in time, immediately revealing to her two things: There were eyes watching them that did not belong to innocent bystanders and he had just betrayed himself of something he should not have. Well, that complicated things…damn it all, it complicated everything. _Everything_. Razer in the last race with a score to settle—if he drove anything like he did in the Blue Eco Cup—and now he would be on that track enraged with all weapons on full assault—_!?_— "B-but I thought that," Rayn began tremulously, but was interrupted.

"It's a perfect way to redeem my stolen honor." Razer suddenly seemed to tower over her as his eyes flashed dangerously, his voice laced with passionate vengeance. "Your Jak is going to die on those tracks, just like I promised. His dramatic explosion will erase my blemish as history will tell the end of the contender who put up the fight, but inevitably fell to the champion. It will be twice as sweet for all the shame."

Stunned by this transformation from his solemnity only moments ago, Rayn rallied herself against the new rise of complications; unable to rid the feeling of her suddenly being trapped by his arms on the dance floor. A tremor was beginning to seize her, but she stifled it and bit back against his intimidation.

"Don't you dare harm him." She snapped, all teeth.

"Threats again, kitten? I must admit, I do not feel very endangered by you. It must be your unwillingness to act on the threats you make." He said darkly, but the spark was lost to the flame that had already been set beneath Rayn. Her amber eyes were hard on him; the hand held outstretched was unconsciously closing more tightly around his. Alarm caused Rayn to react more frantically than she would have liked and she recklessly turned the fault back on her own person, hoping to turn the blood lusting tiger from a wounded deer to a victim that would stay still for the kill.

"I stole the victory from you, not Jak." Razer's eyes flashed, but Rayn plowed on—terrified of continuing but too emboldened to stop. "I caused you all that disgrace. I hurt your image more than he did. I'm your real enemy."

The racer studied her, his eyes jaded and a muscle in his jaw flexed and released. Rayn had called doom upon her own head. She was dancing with death now; the man that would deliver her to it.

"You would repeat that to my face without considering the consequences?" he said, his voice grating at the low growl in his throat. The gloved fingers on her back raised until the tips pressed menacingly into her skin. Rayn was sure he could feel her quivering now, but she had come to this ground and she would stand on it.

"Yes. Your fight is with me. I will take you down again if I have to."

Rayn thought she sounded rather cruel and ruthless with that soul-filled vow, but to her utter shock, Razer burst out laughing so loudly that the couples dancing around them were staring. Rayn glanced around at the faces with a silly, lopsided smile, which many people exchanged for unpleasant looks of distaste. Having no way of stopping him save taboo methods, improper in so public an place, Rayn had to wait with heated discomfort until the man had laughed his fill. A space had formed around them.

"Oh, you are too much. Say it once more, I want to laugh again."

Rayn was beginning to feel insulted. Her brows knitted with anger over her eyes and her lips parted to reveal clenched teeth.

"I could! I would stop you in your tracks if you—"

"Enough, enough, hmm hmm," Razer was still on the last spasms of laughter. Rayn was fuming by the time he had calmed again. "My dear kitten tries to tackle a yakkow ten times her size, but her claws are more caress than scratch."

The hand on Razer's shoulder was constricting and he smiled at the annoyed woman before him.

"I will make life very hard for you if you hurt Jak." She said.

"How sweet," Razer crooned mockingly, "did we forget that the sport is _combat_ racing? Are you so worried for the death of your golden boy, or what will happen to you if you lose?" Razer pressed hard on her back until their bodies made contact, and in the woman's surprise, she did not resist him. She was forced to arch backward slightly to meet his eyes, uncomfortable at how their hips were kneading together as still they danced. "I have heard how close you two have grown, hem hem, or that was before you found he killed your father? Feelings are all mended and no bitterness towards dear Jak? How quickly we forget."

Had Rayn's mind not been emptied of everything at the suggestive intimacy of their contact, she might have noticed the note of jealousy in his voice. Instead, she tried to pull out of his grasp and restore distance, but Razer did not let her go.

"Tut tut, it's very impolite to leave your partner in the middle of a dance." A chuckle was held at bay, but not hidden from her ear. Rayn could not meet his eyes, as the relentless hand on her bare lower back kept her body against his. She was beginning to tremble again.

"Partners shouldn't insult each other." She said softly.

Razer went on as though their proximity did not tax him in the slightest.

"There are insults, and then there is banter. Do you not know the difference?" Razer's hand finally slipped from her back as she moved into a spin the waltz required; signaling the end of the dance was near. When she returned, the space between them had been restored.

"You became stiff when I brought you closer. You realize that if you claim your father's position, you will be placed in just such uncomfortable situations?" Razer had taken the air of her all-knowing adviser once more and Rayn rolled her eyes, grateful to make light of the awkward moment.

"I don't think I'll be waltzing with my business partners."

"Business, especially the type you aspire to, is always a dangerous dance, my dear."

Another spin in the reverse sent Rayn's skirt to flutter lightly about her knees and this time when she returned, she lay the length of her body against her partner.

"I'm not afraid." She said softly, so close to him that she could have bit his chin if she so wanted. There was no mistaking the mild surprise in his expression, though his eyes said more. But he did not appear to disapprove, either. "Forgive me my modesty."

Of course, dancing so close together with a partner not usually danced with was prone to an accident here and there. Rayn stepped on Razer's foot. The man's lips pressed into a thin line, but he made no sound of pain or reproach.

"I assume that was on purpose." He said. Rayn smiled impishly at him.

"Oh, just out of spite."

"I cannot forgive your clumsiness."

"Right. My mismatched shoes completely shatters learned ability." Rayn shot back, recalling his earlier "banter" about her shoes.

"I was merely stating a fact." He said airily; it was the same attitude that always got Rayn riled.

"That my shoes don't match my dress?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you chose to wear them. They hardly seem suitable for a ball."

"Have I not been dancing and insulting, ahem, _bantering_ at once? You think me incapable of doing something more difficult?"

Razer's grin said she had just fallen into a trap.

"I don't think you can." He challenged.

"Care to wager on it?" she returned.

"My dear, the last time we decided to make a wager, you did not hold true to your end of the bargain." His hand on her back was slipping more south and Rayn sharply put distance between them to stop the loose traveling. Surprisingly, neither of them lost the tempo of the slowing waltz. Her expression remained even; smile still in place. His hand slinked upwards again.

"I won, remember?"

"No. An insane woman driver gave my head a knock, the details are fuzzy." he said flatly, but not without humor. Rayn's eyes rolled up and she blew a puff of air at one of her bangs.

"You seem to 'banter' well despite it."

Razer's lips were curling.

"Do you know the Lendler?"

Startled by the direct question, Rayn blinked.

"Did you go to private school?" Rayn rejoined with an equally obvious question. Razer had positioned them just perfectly as he poised his question, already knowing her answer, to signal to the conductor. Realizing she had been set up, Rayn went good-naturedly along with the game. If Razer had gone to all the trouble to trap her into degrading herself in front of a crowd, he would be in for a surprise. Whether he did this for show or more inscrutable reasons, she was going to match his every step.

The white haired music director nodded and rapped his baton on the music stand before him. The music stopped and musicians fumbled through their sheets of music. People who had been waltzing stopped in confusion, missing the finale of their dance and parted to let a single couple pass them all towards the centre of the dancing floor. Razer led Rayn by the fingertips until they reached their starting position, the dancers forming an instinctive circle about them to watch.

The pair faced one another; a confidence had swept the young woman at the familiarity of this formal dance as the short introduction began. A hundred times her class had gone over this in school. She could dance this in her sleep. Rayn curtsied and Razer bowed, when they turned to face out and clasped the other's hand at full arms length.

So they danced.

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

They faced one another, faced forward, then back again with gentle rise and fall, their steps light and graceful across the expanse the circle of bystanders allowed them.

Back the other way and together they skipped the elegant, curling kick of a proud yakkow. _Step, hop. Step, hop._ Out and under they spun under one another's arms at the same time. When their eyes met again, Rayn's mind froze, but thankfully instinct kicked in after the short pause and they were in motion again. Razer lifted his palm over her head so she could twirl beneath it (she was careful to mind her heels in her tall shoes), and on her fifth turn, he caught her other hand and brought it out across his chest, their other hands clasped below and around the ring in a gliding _one, two, three_, they went.

Rayn turned out of his hold after dancing a semi-circle, their hands now before them. Each went left for three counts in modest dips, then right for the same—out and under once more, quarter turn, and again.

Razer's lips were curling into a smile, but the smile was not derisive or insulting, it was…impressed. Slowly, Rayn was letting go of the dark notions that Razer was planning something cruel with the invitation; their exclusive, private dance together was just that. And the dance was becoming less and less of a forced tradition at a school function or a demonstration of prowess, but simply a dance—a pleasant dance between two evenly matched partners.

She spun again and their arms greeted above them before gradually arching out and down again. Allowing a flicker of trust to foster in the darkness that had hated him, the woman's moves became more fluid and passionate. Rayn drew her hands to her hips and Razer held her there for one turn, two, then he spun her once more and released her to her short solo in the dance. He clapped for her to keep the time as she swayed.

She danced around him, her eyes never leaving his, then it was his turn and he kept up the tempo with a few more claps. He returned the intimacy by not dropping his gaze from hers. Rayn could now feel herself smiling too.

Now disjoint, they turned to face the other way for the next series of steps. Razer ahead of her, he moved forward with Rayn following. She was supposed to catch his shoulder with an outstretched hand. Somehow, this felt a presage of things to come and it made her chest tighten. She hesitated. Fortunately, her hand was far enough over his shoulder for Razer to capture and he brought her before him, another elegant spin before their hands met before them again. Their eyes had locked. Rayn had never seen his eyes so intense. The pair of hands above the others met palm to palm and they drew up and over to one side as Razer led her forward in his retreat.

The next move had always been a tricky one, but one of Rayn's favorites. She had always hoped to dance with the cutest boys in her school functions when this song played, just for the way they would entwine.

Rayn turned away from her partner, never releasing his hand, until her arm lay against her back; they stood almost side by side, their other arms arched beautifully above them, framing their heads, their faces were very close together as they danced around each other to where the other had been. She turned again so they could repeat the same motion the other way, and their faces drew closer together this time. His eyes bore into hers and she was melting inside. His lips were a breath from hers, his body around her was strong and supportive, and his warm hands were gentle. She could feel the tickle of his breath as it expanded across her collarbone, the sensation sent shivers through her spine. Their gaze had yet to break. His emerald eyes were ever more intense as they gazed deeply into her eyes. If Rayn had not done this dance so many times and instinct did not drive her, she would have forgotten the steps for several more.

The music was slowing and so were they.

It hurt her to break their gaze; she had only realized her heart was pounding so hard when she lost eye contact with him. It hurt.

A few more turns and the final notes played.

Their leading hands were held out as Rayn's arm moved to lay on his chest, Razer's arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close to him and she did not resist. She did not want to. Her head tilted up, long lashes above enchanted eyes were closing as his lips moved for hers…

Thunderous applause tore into their world, reminding their senses that they were in fact not alone. Their parting was slow and bittersweet; Razer's face betrayed no expression but for the small knit in his brows, while a flush had left a delightful rose in Rayn's cheeks. The clouds dispersed and they were firmly grounded once more, nodding and bowing their regards to the enthused audience. They turned back to one another, but the words would not come to Rayn, so the racer spoke for her.

"He has a weakness in his right knee." Razer said softly.

Confusion flitted across Rayn's face until Blitz hailed them.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" he cheered, his hands clapping as he approached the two. Razer had slipped back into his cold, formal attitude, a drawling smile set in place as Rayn turned to face the reporter in his black and white tux. He was well blended to the rest in this suit, except for the splash of purple that was his bow tie. "Oh you private school students just know all the moves, don't you? You're just trying to show me up at my own party, aren't you Razer?"

"I've warmed her up for you." Razer gave a shallow bow to Blitz. "Enjoy."

And the racer was walking off as though he had only just said a 'hello' to the woman and nothing more. His step was even, his back was straight and fawning girls parted to let him pass. Rayn watched him go. Her heart was still fluttering in her chest at what had passed wordlessly between them. His eyes were still boring into hers in their sweet entanglement. Their faces closing distance, his breath on her lips…

"May I?"

Blitz wrenched her back from the dance she was reliving in her mind and she hated him for it. But she forced herself to concentrate on the moment. This was really what she had come for… not for Razer. Her objective was still before her and her triumph at hand—the same hand she was not so inclined to share with this new candidate.

Setting her jaw and securely locking away the emotions that were running rampant, Rayn draped one hand on her new partner's shoulder as he caught the other and they moved into a waltz. The dancers that had been watching them only a moment ago slowly joined them on the dance floor.

Becoming more aware again after falling out of the mesmerizing ambiance with Razer, Rayn noticed she was perspiring and the material of the new hand on her back was rough and much more firm. The cologne of her new partner was jarring and fell around her in a heavy haze. Everything about the man's demeanor was brash and aggressive, impatient to begin. The woman had to entirely change gears to deal with the reporter.

"You look beautiful." Blitz was smiling at her warmly. Rayn dropped her eyes and thanked him for the compliment. Somehow, the words did not seem to hold the same resonance they should have. "I have to tell you, Razer usually hates these things," Blitz waved around the massive hall before his hand returned to her back, "says the company is a bunch of empty-headed women and exhausting businessmen. But it would seem he found some company he liked."

"He's an excellent dancer." Rayn said, her smile small and unassuming. Blitz returned the same smile, but it held warning in its corners.

"I'd watch out for that one, if I were you." Blitz tilted his head to where Razer had exited the floor. "He's headstrong, callous, spiteful, and very set in his ways. If you're looking to increase your ranks, he's Mizo's subordinate, tried and true. If you're looking for romance, his only mistress is the track."

_Which you took away from him_, Rayn thought irately.

"He's not my type." She turned them so that he could no longer look after Razer and his full attention would be on her. "Reporters on the other hand, already informed on the intimate details of my family, are more my sort."

"Ah, and after I've been so rude. I thought you would have been more upset over the public announcement about your father." Blitz needled, prying her for weakness. Rayn, who had been studying his tie, came back to the conversation. She decided she didn't like his purple bowtie.

"My father was a public figure, he was bound to have been found out sometime." Brushing off the landmine set in the conversation. "What makes me curious is that you knew _I_ was unaware of how my father's death had happened." Rayn stepped a little closer to Blitz and a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "You're very—informed."

"I've been in the business for some time." He admitted vainly with the slightest of caresses on her back. Rayn ignored the touch, but she knew she could not forever.

"You must have many contacts." She prodded further with as much subtlety as she could muster. She had to butter him up as much as possible, pretend she was genuinely interested, get him somewhere private quickly.

"All the best."

"You and Mizo must be close."

It was a bomb of a pin drop, but Blitz was already swelling with enough ego to really grasp the weighted question. That, and her cleavage appeared to be very fascinating.

"I try not to play favorites, but Mizo's got quite the racket in the racing business. I just serve under him. He's a smart man."

_Lying dog._ Rayn wanted to spit out the vile taste on her tongue, but she forced a silky smile and played along.

"I wonder where he is this evening? I'd love to meet him."

Another nudge she prayed wasn't too obvious. She'd nudge him if she had to. Absolutely had to.

"Unfortunately, he couldn't get away from work. He usually leaves the party business to me and I don't complain. Not with all the arm candy I get."

Exploiting Razer's hint sounded so delightful right now, a precisely aimed kick in heels could be devastating, but she pushed her anger down. Rayn exhaled a delighted giggle at his wink and commanded the contents of her stomach stay put.

"You old charmer. Mizo lets you have all the fun behind his back? He must have a great deal of trust in you to leave the social events in your hands. But you're very qualified, of course. You're not unused to dealing with the crowds, the public." She inflected as much admiration in her voice as she dared, looking over the crowd of attendees. He was looking very pleased with himself. Even so, Rayn carefully tread forward, the swelling bubble could pop with a wrong step or from injecting too much air. "You two sound very close. I wonder if you could put in a nice word for me then? I would be forever in your debt."

She stopped herself from biting her lips shut when his gaze suddenly turned suspicious on her. The shivers he gave her were never pleasant.

"Miss Rayn Krew, you've never gotten yourself into debt. Am I really supposed to believe you?"

"You have done your research," she commended him with a brilliant smile; "you must be very interested about me."

"I would be lying to say I wasn't. Lovely daughter of the late Krew, intelligent, witty, a superb racer, a head for business…"

The hand on her back was lingering down her hips, moving closer to the weapon she had concealed on her thigh. Rayn drove forward into Blitz, pretending to be won by his words, until she lay against him and his hand returned to her back. She tilted her naked neck irresistibly to his mouth. Her temple lightly grazed his jaw as she murmured in the most sultry voice she could muster.

"May we talk somewhere…in private?"

She waited to feel lips on her neck, but nothing came and she doused her surprise. G.T. Blitz still had to protect his public image among this throng of rich and fashionable. Still, it would be dangerous being alone with him again…but this would be her one chance. She had to take it.

His hot breath breathed over her neck.

"The pleasure would be all mine."

* * *

**Author's Note: Six. Teen. Pages. This chapter alone is just shy a whopping 10,000 words. It's a lengthy one-shot in itself! And the adventure continues...**

**After the whole jaunt with Blitz, I just couldn't stop writing Rayn x Razer now that they're back. (It's not obvious, is it? Haha!) Fires of obsession courtesy of Luv2Game, who requested "Royal Flush" from RenjiLuvah that made me positively rabid for more. (If you have not read this riveting Rayn x Razer story. Do it. Now. Stop reading my note...You still are!!! Haha, aw, I love you folks.) **

**Lots and lots of Rayn perspective, I'll be shaking that up next chapter. Another huge one. Whew! I love 'er, what can I say? She's growing up and getting a better handle on how the male criminal mind works--she's going to have to crack the most important one. And poor Rayn! She likes two boys; the one who believes in her, and the other one who challenges her mind. Something serious happened at the end of that dance though...how will Rayn deal with this dangerous frontier? And Razer, woo! He cleans up nice! I was practically drooling through this. Just give me a mop and a bucket already. Haha, he seems to have had a lot of mood swings this chapter, but it's a dangerous place for him too. Boss man is cramping his style. I actually hit up a bunch of cologne's writing up Razer (yeah, take that next step into strange!), I got close with one, but no cigar, so I "mixed" my own. I've always sort of liked that masculine, woodsy smell on men. Olfactory remembers with much more clarity than sight. Rayn was floored. Haha!**

**The "Lendler" is an Austrian folk dance that completely won me in the Sound of Music. If you'd all like a visual because the writing is hard to interpret into dance, add this extension to the youtube address: watch?v=I4FU5eRESnY or type in "sound music 10/18" in the search. It should be the first video. Christopher Plummer is so Razer. Julie Andrews is magnificent in her role as Maria. Gah, I take so many liberty's with this story. Austria and the Lendler don't exist in Jak's world, but I was just so smitten. That little dance in the Sound of Music completely changed how I was going to write this chapter. Completely. So there you have it.**

**Rayn's most dangerous dance is coming as the chance of her usurping Mizo's throne becomes a real threat. Razer has to decide who to side with. "Should I stay or should I go?" Da da da da, da da dum! (Whoa, second wind/lack of sleep is getting to me.)**

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I had SO much fun writing it! Review and "Let me know, oh let me know!" (Yeah, I'm going to bed now.)**

**Blackfire 18**


	13. A Deal

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 13: A Deal**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within. (Not in this chapter anyway!)**

Arm in arm, Blitz led Rayn through the thick crowd of mulling guests, his step slow and deliberate. Rayn sported her most casual smile for the blathering aristocrats; their staring eyes and loose tongues followed them both as they passed. Blitz appeared to be deeply enjoying the attention they received and he forced their pace to elicit the most scandal for the surrounding people.

His enclosing arm was crushing her forearm like a vice, most likely to ensure that she would not change her mind now that she had agreed to speak with him in private, but she felt like a trophy he was all too proud to show off before gaping mouths and fanning hands. Blitz's smile was all teeth as he tossed an encouraging wink to gossip every so often to tight clusters of women, who immediately discussed amongst themselves. Once or twice Rayn overheard her family name being whispered in the cluttered droves. She felt bile rising in her throat. The only outward disclosure of her disgust was the closing of her tightly smiling lips.

This was all perfect publicity for Blitz. The rival crime lord to Mizo on the arm of the most infamous reporter in Kras. However he had managed to steal the girl for an impromptu interview, Blitz was sure to inform all the public whatever the spoiled little chit had to say concerning the current crime lord and her own star racer, the only racer to ever defeat Razer, Jak.

It seemed an eternity before they passed through the throngs, though Rayn could still feel the gazes of hundreds hot on her back as she mounted the steps and she cringed at the thought. Any who wanted to improve their standings with Mizo had only to uncover their discretely hidden weapons and take a shot at her naked back. Simple, clean, immediate reclaim and they would have Mizo's gratitude. She clenched her jaw, but no shot came.

At last the pair entered a sprawling office and Blitz slipped his arm from hers. Rayn did her best not to look impressed with the room. Decked in the finest wood furnishings, the office was tastefully decorated in mature reddish browns with the only splashes of color in the care of the fully bloomed plants to either side behind the tidy desk. Each plant was guarded by statues of half nude women draped in their flowing marble sarongs; forever frozen in their elegant stride. A sparkling, elaborate chandelier hung as a centerpiece over the center of the room and its warm light was flattering. A solid slab of speckled granite clicked beneath her heels as the door behind her shut with a click and a deadbolt slid into place.

Good.

Rayn came out of her daze from the majestic atmosphere as Blitz's footsteps approached and his hot breath fanned over her neck as he passed.

"Can I get you a drink?"

He pressed on to the desk, assuming her answer as he lifted three bottles of liquor and two crystal glasses from a hidden cache in the desk. He produced an ice bucket from the other side and the chime of ice filled the otherwise silent room.

"What are my choices?" Rayn had not moved from her spot where Blitz had released her.

"Scotch, gin and cabernet." Blitz let the last choice hang on the air a moment but Rayn did not react. He rolled his shoulders and continued. "Absinth if you're feeling adventurous." He had placed his palms flat on the desk and was smiling at her. Rayn felt as though some sort of test were taking place. Looking at each of the bottles, even at a distance, she knew they were all premium distillations of the particular spirit. The most expensive of each make set out before her and Blitz standing behind them all, waiting.

Her decision was prompt.

"Scotch."

The man's smile widened, but that could have meant anything from where she stood as he put the other two bottles away and poured the alcohol. Their eyes locked when he took both glasses to her and offered one. Rayn took it and drank after Blitz clinked their glasses with a wish of cheer. The drink was sweet and rich. Son of Mar, it was delectable. She hated to admit it, but the man had good taste.

He circled close behind her with the tinkling of ice as their only dialogue in the silence. Be it out of intimidation or encouragement, it was his quiet invitation for her to enter further into the room. For the moment, Rayn stood her ground.

"So what can I do for you, Miss Krew?" Blitz had come back into her line of sight on her right. He was sipping at his drink again but watching her as he moved. Rayn tilted her head lightly to one side.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk business."

Blitz laughed.

"All work and no play, my dear…" Blitz let the implication hang, but Rayn smiled away the insult.

"Oh, I wouldn't bring work with me if I hadn't known I would be granted the opportunity to speak about my rival, or rather _to_ my rival, Mizo." Rayn's amber eyes had grown hard as they narrowed on the man across from her. She sorely missed any tremor of anxiety or jolt of surprise as the man dropped his head and moved it from side to side with a chuckle.

"I must say, it has taken you much longer than I had anticipated your finding out, if ever. You took your time, Rayn. Poor sources or poor spies?" He looked over at her and smiled. She did not return it. He began to approach her. "So now we can finally meet face to face, no facades, no veils of secrecy, just crime lord to crime lord. I assume you knew that coming here tonight, what with that display on the dance floor," Mizo waggled an eyebrow at her and Rayn blinked angrily in response, "and you have some sort of interrogation in mind." He chuckled and swirled his scotch.

"I applaud your discovery but it really makes no difference. Who are you going to tell? The people are going to take my word for yours every time. Now where does that leave you?" The distance between them was closing and Rayn had to move. Fast. "Still at my mercy." Mizo was a breath away from her face but Rayn slipped from his reaching hand as she sidestepped his advance to make for his desk. She took a final sip from the glass and placed it on the desk before she seated herself on its edge.

"Now that is where you are wrong." Her fingers dipped into her boostier and produced a folded sheet of paper. Perplexed, Mizo stood by as she carefully unfolded the creased sheet and lazily read off the date and items listed. "Potassium chlorate, bleach, distilled water, white gasoline, two #3 caps—" the paper was ripped from Rayn's fingers; she looked up to see Mizo's face pressed into a mix of fury and disbelief as she continued, "all ingredients to mix a plastic explosive and all purchased from the after signed, Gilroy T. Blitz." Rayn paused to study the man; his indigo eyes were searching wildly over the paper, a copy of a receipt from a hardware store years ago. A terrible smile was trying to curl her lips but she forestalled it by sipping at her scotch. "Ironically enough, Roy Blitz met his explosive end on the track two days after this particular purchase. And investigative reports found the same chemical signatures as the items listed there." Mizo's gaze snapped toward her to see her amber eyes ablaze. "You killed your father."

The sheet slipped to the ground and the crime lord advanced on the woman that possessed the information to seal his end, clawed fingers reaching for her throat, but a cold ring of metal was suddenly against his chest.

"Oh, give me a reason. Give me a reason, I beg you." She ground out through clenched teeth, pressing the gun more deeply into his sternum. Never had Mizo seen such a deranged golden gaze barely contained in the formal body that carried it. Seeing how close this petite girl was to unhinging, he slowly raised his open palms into the air, not daring to speak a word that would vibrate along the barrel of the weapon so ready to spit death at a single faux pas. Her eyes flickered between his, one to the other, before she gave a sharp thrust into his torso. "Sit. Now."

Mizo did as he was told. He walked cautiously to the leather seat behind the desk, keeping his hands visible at her demand, and he sat back into it. The leather creaked unusually loudly in his ears. Despite the imminent danger, Mizo stole the moment to polish off his scotch. If she had wanted to kill him, she would have done it already. Something was holding her back. Whatever her reason, he needed a drink.

"You killed your own father." She repeated; her gun still trained on him. "And…and then you cornered my mother into a vile contract demanding she sign away her freedom to be your—your slave." Rayn spat.

"All my best work." Blitz's lopsided smile made the woman's stomach turn.

"You sicken me."

"Oh Rayn, you sheltered girl. I am an absolute kitten compared to some of the things my men have done. Razer among them. You should have seen some of the elaborate murders he's executed." Mizo settled a little in his chair when the woman twitched. "All you have are the cold agreements of a contract; you have no idea how they were enacted."

"I could venture a guess." Rayn snapped coldly.

"No, you couldn't." The man returned with a condemning turn of his head. "What you read in those contracts, all the law babbling jargon, and you could glean the worst of my supposed ambitions. I would have treated your mother with respect and adoration." Mizo spread his fingers on one hand and raised his glass with the other.

"I should kill you right here, swine." Her weapon arm solidified, but Mizo waved her off with another swig of scotch.

"You haven't thought this through, my dear." He chastised.

"Really?" Rayn scoffed with a sharp toss of her head. "Then just answer me one thing before I pull the trigger. How can you even _look_ at me after what you've done to my mother?"

"Sweetheart, your mother was a kind, gentle, affectionate woman and only hellish when something upset her, but she was angry for the right reasons." Mizo leisurely refilled his glass. "But you. You take after your father. You're manipulative, deceitful, hardhearted, and I don't pity you because you are exactly like Krew: A crime lord. Or trying to be. You're far from innocent." He took a drink.

"Afraid to see what I'm capable of?"

Mizo also finished this glass and was pouring himself a third, while beyond him, Rayn was becoming more enraged at his indifferent demeanor. She appeared to be no real threat to him.

"We shouldn't be wasting time squabbling," Mizo spoke as he poured, "fighting over who gets what and for what reasons. We should be partners. We should be talking business."

"I am talking business." Rayn snatched the scotch bottle from his hand and threw it across the room where it shattered on the far wall; scotch staining the granite and glass shards scratching every surface within reach. Mizo shot her an ugly look, but Rayn was fed up with his carefree attitude toward her. Now she had his attention. "Despite your attempts at sabotage on my team, we have prevailed. Every effort, every missed shot, at destroying my star, and you've crumpled your own. You must be desperate by now." The woman deepened her voice in a charade as Blitz. "What kind of merit does an old bet hold from a deceased gambler? I don't owe Krew anything, this city is rightfully mine." Mizo quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're wrong. I represent my father for this _still_ _binding_ bet and you have breached the parameters of the deal."

"Now hold on just a min—" Mizo tried to interject but Rayn cut across him.

"I will kill you if you interfere with the championship."

Mizo laughed loudly.

"I'd like to see you tr—"

The glass beside Mizo exploded and the man visibly flinched. Rayn was grinning horribly. Father was right to love and dabble in arms because the sensation coursing through her veins that moment was indescribable. She felt powerful.

"Try me."

Mizo sank back into his chair, left nothing to distract him. His expression of contorted shock was one Rayn would savor for decades. She spoke her next words lowly, but she may as well have shouted them at the crime lord across from her with how stony his face became.

"This city is already mine, should I win or lose this race. So I suggest we play fair on the last one--honor your contract to my father or I will publicly announce the murder of your father by your own hand."

Mizo's grave expression did not change, though his hands did grip tightly at his armrests. Rayn shrugged at his silence.

"I'm not surprised if you're unworried, my word against yours after all, but you should be. You think I've been sitting on my laurels all this time? The picture of the helpless school girl in a crime lord's world? I've been busy with my own designs since my father's death." Rayn leaned forward over the desk. "The very moment I discover you've cheated me, I will expose you and your captive audience will disperse. Your funds will diminish and the sport will die.

"Yes, you will have money enough to survive a year or two, without the gambling, but I've already purchased all the stocks from your more profitable companies and your empire will slowly, steadily collapse around you." Her voice was growing huskier at the sheer delight of her advancing triumph marching over his startled face. "Finances will recede, riots break out, and the loyalties of your men will change. I'll be overjoyed to watch the decay; sipping champagne from my balcony, as your own men with purchased arms from the Krew Armory will thirst for your blood. And once your loyal subjects have beheaded you, I will move in to restore order, wealth, and prosperity with an iron fist."

Mizo was speechless and Rayn laughed softly; a delicate, cruel sound. She pushed her own glass of scotch toward him, offering the mind-numbing drink he looked like he needed after her condemning speech. The man did not move. The smile that had been absent from Rayn's face since the weapon had emerged had finally returned.

"You say I'm like my father. My father was a meek lamb compared to how I will lead this city. And this, Mizo, is your last chance to play fair. I suggest you take advantage of it."

"Rayn," Mizo's voice was gravelly and he cleared his throat. "I've had run of this city for years. I know these people; their joys and regrets. Their lives. And I understand the minds of the underground—I know how to control them. In your father's absence, you should consider my tutelage. Learn from me. Let me teach you how to run this city properly and when it's time for me to retire, I will surrender my titles to you. Let us be partners."

Indigo eyes searched hers for agreement to such common sense, but Rayn was not having any of it. She chuckled at him instead.

"Your last desperate reach, Mizo?"

"We got off to a rough start." The man feigned amiability. "Let's start over. Forget the bet between your father and I—we can draw up a new contract. We should join forces and rule Kras together. I'll teach you everything I know. We'll have riches, governance, and complete sway over the racing industry. We can reach a new agreement where you can set the parameters."

"They've already been set." Rayn returned sharply. "You're not getting out of this Mizo. Whoever wins the championship, wins all."

A twinge of desperation laced Mizo's voice of warning as the man sat up slightly in his chair.

"You're making a mistake, Rayn."

"The only reason you still breathe now is my generous mercy to see this bet through, as my father wished. Had I my way, your head would have been riddled with lead our first encounter." She said. Mizo's expression had devolved to granite.

"If that's how it's going to be, fine." Mizo suddenly stood up from his chair and Rayn was quick to realign her slacking weapon to his chest. "So then you've read the documents and you must have come to realize that your mother left an unpaid debt to me. I demand it be reimbursed in full. When I win the race, you will take her place in the contract she and I drew up all those years ago."

"On what grounds?" Rayn challenged shrilly. "You terminated that contract of your own hand." But Mizo forged on.

"Evelyn Krew's debt is yours to repay. And since you are _not_ your father and demanding amendments to a voided contract on the behalf of a dead party, my demands equal yours."

"You have no argume—" Rayn shook her head in disbelief, but Mizo continued unperturbed.

"If you win, I will grant you all you ask. If I win, you become proxy for what your family still owes me. Do we have a deal?" Mizo offered his hand, a lopsided grin back in place after the rapid fire contentions of his own. Rayn glared at him and exhaled through her nose.

"The championship will be a clean race and we will both adhere to the rules." She ground lowly.

"Of course." Mizo's hand still aloft, Rayn did not take it.

"A clean race," Rayn emphasized, still not trusting him, "if I find that you were cheating…"

"You have my word." Mizo placed his other hand over his heart and closed his eyes. Rayn studied him before slowly, hesitantly replacing her gun in her garter. Mizo watched the material of her dress pass high on her thigh with profound interest.

Rayn reached out and clasped his hand when her breath caught in her throat. Mizo turned his hand just right so her knuckles were exposed and his lips brushed over them. Rayn jerked once and Mizo's head came up, but he did not release her. Instead, he walked her back to the door where he yanked sharply on Rayn's arm. The move too sudden for her to react, Rayn was spun until her back slammed into the door and Mizo's body was on her, crushing her backwards and his lips sliding over hers. Fury overcame her shock and Rayn fought against him. He was too close and too strong for her to maneuver a knee into his groin. The reporter's tongue was working its way into her mouth.

Razer's words were rushing back to her—a ray of light in the enclosing darkness of panic.

_He has a weakness in his right knee._

Rayn was coiling her leg for the most devastating kick she could muster when a _thunk_ sounded from somewhere behind her and Rayn was suddenly free, coughing and scrubbing her lips with the back of her hand. Mizo grinned down at her.

"Why you vicious bas—"

"Just testing out the goods to make sure I get all I bargained for. I approve." Mizo winked at her and turned the door knob until the door swung open and Rayn stumbled out. "I promise we'll make good on our deal later." He said more loudly and the same throngs of eyes were on Rayn from below, cutting off her string of curse words before she could voice them. The door slammed shut in her face and she heatedly straightened her dress and smoothed back her hair. Her stride was composed and confident (if hurried) to the exit while searing hate boiled just beneath the surface.

_I should have shot him_. Rayn berated herself.

* * *

Rayn had half considered popping by the washroom for a touchup, but she had no intention of standing around the ballroom forcing small chat any longer. She had done what she had come for and all she wanted now was to return home and wash the reporter's clinging reek from her body.

Leaving the lion's den above the stairs was as difficult as entering it, if not more so.

A silence filled the wide open space as countless eyes watched her decent on the staircase. Just as quickly as the silence had fallen was it shattered in murmurs and mutterings about all that had transpired between the deceased crime lord's daughter and infamous G.T. Blitz. Oh the joys of the grapevine.

Rayn made a beeline for the nearest double doors and saw herself out.

Her first breath of fresh air was cleansing and her body trembled in the cooling night air. Apparently, her conference with Mizo had given her some post traumatic stress. She could still feel the sticky film he left on her in his wake. His hips grinding against hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

"Grimy tit." Rayn spat irately to no one in particular, wishing desperately that she had gone to the washroom to rinse her mouth. Never mind. She wasn't going back in there. The crowd would jump all over her demanding explanations as fodder for gossip and that was the last thing she needed at that moment.

Sighing, the woman looked up to the roof and made a gesture. The man crouching there nearly invisible to the eye made a brief nod and disappeared. Her ride home arranged, Rayn walked away from the entrance in search of a bench to sit and rest her aching feet. She wore heels all the time but this particular pair was the most sharply inclined stilettos she owned and she was going to collapse in short order if she did not take some weight off.

Rayn wandered along the building when she found an elegant stone bench hidden in a small garden grove. But before she could walk very far into the cozy alcove, a small light in the near distance caught her eye. Freezing, Rayn glanced sharply toward the movement to see an arm held idly out, a puff of smoke drifting on the air, and a lit cigarette hovering between white gloved fingers.

The woman blinked once. Then she made for the arm that had ducked out of sight on the other side of the corner.

Rayn's heart jumped into her throat when her suspicions were confirmed and suddenly her actions became unexplainable even to herself.

Her hand shot out, fingers pinching around the cigarette, and yanked the smoke from its owner's lips. The finely dressed man made a sharp motion before abruptly yielding at the person before him; the same he had danced with that night—the same that now dragged so appreciatively on his cigarette. He gently replaced his knife.

Rayn took the smoke from her lips and exhaled, watching passively as the cloud of smoke rose above her. In the corner of her eye, her companion was settling back against the wall as the initial surprise wore off. His green eyes were still on her but he said nothing. The racer in his tux looked even sharper in the moonlight. The soft light kissed his high cheekbones and outlined his well-defined jaw. The man simply exuded an allure that was irresistible.

Rayn smiled to herself and tapped the ashes off.

"Much better." She held up the cigarette to examine it in the light flooding out of the building and a familiar story was forming in her mind. A story she rarely shared with anyone, but the racer's stilled permission at her borrowing of his precious smoke teased it from her. "I used to smuggle these for the girls at school. It was quite a popular trade and I made a good deal of money doing it. But I don't think I did it for the money." She said softly, her eyes searching the cigarette for her past. "It was more for…the thrill. These little smokes were contraband, a direct ticket to expulsion, for use or possession. It was a challenge finding nooks and crannies in the school to hide and receive them, then set up new locations to deal. Every week it was something different and we all had our little made up codes to keep the professors off the scent. The demand was ridiculous around finals and I always worried the girls wouldn't dispose the butts properly and security would be all over my operation." Rayn chuckled. "So much pressure to grant a little release."

Rayn finally looked Razer full in the eye. He was watching her, but his expression was placid.

"I never got caught."

She smiled at the man and placed the cigarette back between his parted lips.

"Good night."

But even before she could release her hold on the slender white cylinder, a hand closed around her wrist. She started, only able to stare as the racer took his own drag off the cigarette she still held before he moved her hand back to exhale. His green eyes glimmered through the veil of smoke.

"Do not…take my cigarette again." His free hand plucked the smoke from her fingers and he released her, tapping off the ashes. Rayn smiled and shook her head lightly to hide her discomfort at this cold change in him. This was not the man she had danced with, this was Mizo's heavy.

"You are a mystery, Razer. One moment you're suave and debonair and the next you're a coldhearted thug. It's like you're schizophrenic—is that how Mizo trained you? Hide behind the other personality to get through assassinations?" Rayn's jaw clamped shut when Razer's cigarette was removed and he abruptly stepped toward her.

"My orders have been to kill you on sight; since our last encounter." The racer's voice was low, dangerous. "You may want to ask yourself: Have I really seen you here tonight?"

Rayn did not flinch away from him. She couldn't.

The air was tinged with electricity now as she gazed upon him, as their bodies drew close together once more. The feelings she had felt after their dance washing over her in his presence. Their other meetings came to the forefront of her mind and each time he had a clear opportunity to strike, and she was beginning to think, his debt to her mother had run out. He held back now because something, however small, had changed between them.

"Are you giving me a choice?" she murmured, genuinely curious.

"Leave. Now." There was no room for humor in his voice. His words were a solid order. Rayn was rooted to the spot as her eyes glanced between both of his. He had already spared her, numerous times, but she stood there searching—looking for the same passion she had seen hidden there after their dance. Only the cold-blooded killer lurked in his eyes. Maybe she had imagined the new development? Had she dared to imagine the racer as anything more than Mizo's trained mercenary?

Defeated, Rayn cast her gaze down and gave a slight nod.

"Razer," she said mutedly, "the championship. Don't hurt him." She glanced back into his eyes one last time—still cold—before she turned away. "Good night." She repeated and retreated, but a moment later, his voice hailed her.

"Rayn," the racer's voice was languid, bored. "I believe you're missing something."

Rayn turned back to face the man and her heart stopped. There, resting idly on his middle finger was the gun she had hidden on her thigh. Her hand jumped for the garter and a chilling sensation rippled through her when she discovered her weapon was absent. The man's eyes were on the revolver as he took a final drag on his smoke before casting it aside. With deft hands, the racer popped the magazine free to examine the number or loaded bullets inside. At this short distance, Rayn could see his eyebrows rise and heard his faint hum of interest. She froze.

"One missing. Where did that one go?" The man shrugged and snapped the cylinder on the revolver back into place as he raised the gun level to the woman across from him. "Or more importantly, where does the next one go?"

He nodded sharply to one side, his eyes never leaving hers as she stood immobile to his beckon.

"I was curious to see how far along this wager you would get on your own. Not very. You've had help every single step of the way. I can firmly say, Rayn Krew, that you are not ready to be crime lord. You are juvenile. Irresolute. And foolish. A helpless girl in a world of and for men. This business will eat you alive." Rayn's tremulous steps had carried her to stand before the man, her own gun poised at her heart. Her breath was irregular and heavy as she stared at him. He was glaring at her, in frustration or urgency, she could not be sure. "But then, perhaps I have taken things out of context; am judging too quickly. Unless given the opportunity?"

And for the second time that night, Rayn's wrist was snatched as she was jerked forward, the gun suddenly back in her hand with its muzzle pointed at Razer's chest. He crushed her fingers to wrap about the weapon and did not let go even as her arm went limp.

"W-what are you doing?" she stammered, trying desperately to curl away from him and the gun he forced her to hold on him. His teeth were bared and he snapped her other wrist to him, forcing her to focus.

"Now you have a choice. Listen to me." He demanded, his voice lowering but his agitation still clearly present. Rayn gawked at him, fear blazed across her features. "I…am going to kill Jak in the championship. Slaughter him until there is no recognizable piece of him left. And you will lose this city. Lose everything you have worked toward because you have pinned all your hopes on a boy who dares to challenge a champion." He paused, green eyes piercing hers. "Ensure your success. Pull the trigger."

Rayn's mouth fell open. She did not move save for the tremor that had seized her. The man's hands tightened on hers.

"Do you understand me? I stand between you and your goal. It's either Jak or me; one of us will die. Make your decision now. Or lose this city."

Slowly, the racer's hands slipped from hers and Rayn stood holding the gun to the disgraced champion of her own accord. She bit her lower lip to stop its trembling as her eyes flickered to the weapon between them and back up to his eyes. His emerald gaze was hard but unwavering. When Rayn did nothing, Razer continued to goad her.

"Prove you are capable of this business. Dirty your hands. I am not on your side. When I race, Jak will die. I guarantee it." Razer's lips curled back over his teeth. "This is your only opportunity to failsafe your victory in the championship. Pull the trigger."

Rayn's jaw clenched and her arm straightened; every sense within her screaming to take this opening for all it was worth. He was her enemy and the only true individual barring her from her path to ruling crime lord. He was a gangster, a murderer, a champion past his racing days and this would severely hurt Mizo's chances of winning.

But his warm lips were on her ear, his soft hand on her bare back, their arms entwining, his intense green eyes gazing deeply into hers…

Rayn's resolve cracked and the sound of metal hitting pavement echoed with the force of thunder around them. The racer's gaze did not stray from hers and his eyes were spiteful. She was slowly shaking her head.

"I can't." she squeaked. But if she had hoped to see his relief she was disappointed as his face contorted into rage.

"You are weak." He spat and began to head towards the entrance. She started after him, her stomach in knots and uncertainty in her every step.

"Razer, I—"

"You're not ready." He cut across her, not bothering to face her. "Go home, Krew."

Rayn's expression turned hard and she sprinted until she was before him once more, blocking him from his path. She ignored his annoyance in favor of her own irritation.

"Damn it! I couldn't shoot you even if I wanted to, Razer." She stepped toward him, throwing one arm in an angry gesture. "It's not in our terms."

Razer appeared disinterested on whose terms she spoke of.

"Go home." He moved to pass her on the left but she stopped him here too.

"You mean to tell me that that dance in there didn't mean a thing to you?" Her amber eyes were searching his again, questioning his pitiless resolve after all she had seen—all she had experienced with him.

"No."

But Rayn saw it. There was the slightest flicker, the barest twitch that said otherwise—and Rayn's hatred melted in the confirmation of her hopeful suspicions.

"You're lying." She murmured, as astonished as he to have uncovered it.

"Need I remind you again, stupid girl, that we are enemies?" he barked, all fire and hatred; but it was too late, Razer had betrayed himself and Rayn was moving toward him, her amber eyes wide. And he was retreating.

"Yet you've opportunities to betray me time and again. Surely whatever debt you owed my family has been paid in full. Why are you protecting me?"

"I was curious." He retorted sharply, his wild gesture a little overdone.. "And I'm morbidly troubled by what I've seen. You tread the path to your own ruin…and you will die. "

"Then take me. Take your knife and cut my throat. Deliver me to Mizo and reap your rewards, if I am so unfit." Rayn stood waiting for him to do just as she asked, surely the same grant of death he extended her could be offered in reverse. She hugged her arms to herself when he merely glared at her. "You can't. Just as I couldn't bring myself to shoot you. You asked me to dance…" She stretched out a hesitant hand, fingertips brushing tenderly, and placed her palm on his chest. "Now, there's something here." Her eyes flickered to meet his. "You couldn't feel it?"

His fingers closed over her hand and pulled to remove it, but when she resisted he yielded.

"Go home, Rayn." He said flatly. "You will lose this city."

The woman was moving into him, the moonlight soft on her features and her perfume rising around him to mix with his cologne. A suffocating heat had welled up within her; her thundering heartbeat and searing blood setting fire to every part of her body. And Rayn surrendered to it.

Her head tilted up to his, lips parting.

"I would rather lose this city, than lose you." She murmured, eyes closing. She could feel his hot breath on her mouth as he leaned down to meet her—

A sharp clatter of tables and glasses erupted inside the building and shouting voices were quick to follow. When Rayn's eyes opened, Razer had already retreated a safe distance away from her and his hard-edged demeanor returned.

"I gave you your chance, you refused. I will feel no remorse when you boy falls before me. It's over, Rayn. You've lost."

And Rayn was left to follow the man with her eyes, mouth still open, as he made his way back into the light and warmth of the ballroom.

A cloud passed over the moon and darkness descended on her.

* * *

Razer stood on the balcony wrapping around the ballroom as he watched the mulling crowds of the rich below. A soft classical tune played and dancers swayed on the floor in a nauseating swirl of unsymmetrical motion.

Below, the snooty aristocrats as false as their forced smiles chattered about the most useless things; their heads empty of all but for formal dress, alcohol, and money. Their eyes blind to the starving citizens just beyond the darkness; beyond the doors walked those too poor to afford a single meal, while these rich enjoyed their fine wines and seasoned meats. These nobles who were more concerned that their makeup was not smudged and their suits pressed. These nobles who did not know a day's hard work in their lives.

As Razer looked down on these upper-class mongrels, his grip tightened on the marble banister. As an assassin, he had killed their like before for others of their class; it was such a waste of time. Money thrown back and forth between feuding families as others would rise out of the woodwork to take a former family head's place. Razer had made put himself through school this way for years before Mizo found him and satiated his passion in racing.

At fifteen, Razer had felt forever indebted to the crime boss for funding his schooling, teaching him to become something in the underground, allowing his talents on the track to flourish by purchasing the latest vehicles of his choice. Razer had come to love Mizo as a father and his devotion to pleasing the man was resolute. Of course, Mizo would have his nasty days, but Razer took the bad with the good, and he was eventually elevated to the status of second in command.

But Mizo had changed over the past year; his genial moods dissipating with every lost race in the approaching championship.

Razer was happy for competition (not thrilled with losing himself) but Mizo was not so happy with threat to his comfortable seat at the top. They had both scoffed at Krew's daughter in the beginning, but both men's attitudes changed as the races went on. They were both aware of the bet between their crime families and Krew's daughter had a real chance of taking all with Jak driving her success. Mizo had become obsessed with the girl. And the last time the crime lord had become obsessed with a woman, the object of his affections died. The boss's new favorite, more or less a carbon copy of the last, was in dire straights should he get his claws in her.

A passing waiter with a platter of alcohol walked by him and Razer was quick to snag two of the glasses before he could pass by. With a mumbled word of thanks, the racer downed the first without pausing for breath and sipped more sparingly at the second.

Rayn Krew.

He had had his share of encounters with the woman and he was at once apprehensive and frustrated with the girl. At times, she amazed him with her knowledge but other times she made the most idiotic decisions that risked her life—walking alone at night and driving into the desert, angry, with the sun setting. For God's sake, she did know that she was the rival crime lord's daughter and there were bounties out on her head? The woman had a death wish!

He hated her for her naivety and childish mistakes, and yet…

Razer blamed the sudden twist in his stomach to the alcohol.

Each time they met, his opinion of her slowly evolved into something less cynical, and though she had her missteps, she was not a complete fool. And with her father dead, she tread this uneven path alone. He had to applaud her courage.

Though Razer had been ordered to destroy her, he simply could not bring himself to do it. Rayn looked far too much like her mother and the hovering ghost always stayed Razer's blade from spilling her life blood.

Razer had somehow hoped that protecting the girl would make amends for his broken promise to her mother.

But each time they met, Razer had been in control. The woman had sat across from him, unable to see his cards or gauge his expression and the odds were always in his favor. But the moment the two of them settled into the steps of the Lendler, the cards went tumbling from Razer's hands.

He could still picture her now; lovely in her accenting formal dress, blushing as she gently swayed in his arms. Her sweet perfume still followed him now. She had her mother's eyes.

As he tried to revisit his memories of the dance, his mind was foggy. She was graceful and radiant—and matched his every move step for step. Razer inhaled a shaky breath, no longer seeing the ballroom before him. Rayn was there. A gentle spin, her dress floating, amber eyes sparkling as she returned to him in the dance…When their bodies touched—

"So Razer, one more race?"

The replicated scene set before him snapped and the nobles and dancers were below him once more. Razer had never felt so disoriented before. He blamed the nausea on the drink. He took another sip.

Blitz had come beside him from out of nowhere. The man was more rigid than he was when he had interrupted at the end of the Lendler. Hmm. So Rayn hadn't mortally wounded him. Had it been him, he probably would have shot Blitz in the shoulder to bring his point across, then left. Rayn probably just talked the crime lord to death. God. A woman through and through. Still, he did wonder where that sixth bullet in her peashooter had gone.

Blitz was overlooking the proceedings below aloofly, but Razer could see through this calculated façade and he had a devil of a time trying to keep his own face straight. Whatever Rayn had done to the crime lord in his office had unseated him. It had been a long time since Razer had seen the crime lord so ruffled. Rayn, their kitten, must have some very sharp little claws.

But apparently, she had agreed to continue with the bet. Just a few more races remained before the championship and Mizo was going to employ all the best to crush her.

Razer had already known he would be drafted.

"Yes. One more race." Razer downed a good draught of his drink.

"It'll be good for your image!" Blitz clapped him on the shoulder, but the man's voice was still a little too hollow for Razer's taste. "Get some of your racing glory back after that horrible Blue Eco Cup. Lord knows you could use it."

Razer suppressed his anger. Jak was a worthy opponent, no gnat to be swatted aside. Blitz would only know if he had raced the boy. And besides that, Razer knew his shattered reputation was on the line. He didn't need a constant reminder.

Mizo was oblivious to Razer's slipped grimace and the racer quickly hid his malcontent with a sip of liquor.

The crime lord leaned in closer to Razer and dropped his voice. Blitz's chipper chatter had suddenly become filled with a dark, dangerous humor. "Is our girl going to be in this one?"

Razer was expressionless.

"Yes. She is."

"Good." Blitz had become genuinely happy. A dangerous emotion for every hapless rival that stood against him. He wrapped an arm around Razer's shoulders in a move that would normally have heartened Razer, but the younger man could not stave off a feeling of dishonesty about the action. "Kill them both. No mistakes, my boy. Remember Razer, this is your last chance."

The threat veiled in cheer did not fall on deaf ears and Mizo headed off to his mansion to retire for the evening. Razer's green eyes glinted as they followed his superior.

"I understand."

* * *

**Author's Note: Woo-hoo! Finally, another update! If my chapters keep running these several thousand words in length, I'm gonna die. Carpal Tunnel!! X.x **

**Wow, I don't even know where to begin on this one. Rayn finally comes to terms with her feelings on Razer--sorta! She likes him, but he doesn't seem to return it--cue dramatic light change. Dun, dun, DUN! And God, could Razer BE any more hot? I jumped him the second he was out of Rayn's sight, I tell you what. And Blitz. Blitz, Blitz, Blitz. I love making him slimy. At times though, he does seem to have a really good head on his shoulders in the game; granted, he has his dumb moments too, but we all have those. "Let me expose myself on live television, nobody will see especially since I'm on the winning team's turf and everything." (rips off toupee) Still, I hope I made him sound pretty solid in this chapter. He does have experience after all, and I wanted to make that option a tad tantalizing for Rayn. Mizo was like a little kid in this chapter almost. Tantrum, playing it off, bartering. Typical five-year-old strategy to getting that pint of ice cream at the grocery store. o.o I didn't do that growing up! Stop lookin' at me! XD**

**So much typing for so many little scenes. Well, they were big scenes crucial to plotline and such, but I only worked with Rayn, Razer, and Blitz on this one. The only ones that matter, eh? Jak? Where are you! I still haven't decided how to write out the last race just yet. And that could be cause for some delay. Just bear with me! ...And tell school to shove it!**

**Blackfire 18**


	14. The Next Stepping Stone

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 14: The Next Stepping Stone**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within (excepting Evelyn, Gerard, Greyson and Crutch.)**

Razer had removed himself from the festivities to a private room after evading a particularly large group of women with less ease than he would have liked. It crossed his mind that he should just escape to the tracks to release some tension, but he couldn't.

Or would not be allowed to.

It seemed Mizo was having him followed.

Razer, with years of experience as an assassin, had noticed the tuxedoed shadow hanging back on the other side of a column as the flock of dresses descended on the racer. The unknown man was careful to keep a respectful distance. He was good at what he did, but Razer knew a tail when he saw one. The racer watched for a twitch, a tell toward the other's intentions; hiding his scrutiny by leaning close to one of the young girls. She about fainted as Razer murmured something suggestive and her friends clustered tittering to her aid. Razer decided the tail's purpose was to report on whereabouts, who was spoken to, action taken, as no weapon made itself known on the tail's person.

The women parted to demand what the racer had said to the dizzy damsel and Razer saw his escape route.

He had ducked into an empty room with the tail stopping at a distance behind, casually lighting a cigar, and shut the door. Razer lit a fresh smoke himself inside the elegantly furnished room, wondering at the roaring fireplace keeping nothing but the empty leather seats warm, and he moved to the high windows overlooking the gardens. He cracked one open to alleviate some of the smoke and the room's own stuffiness.

He felt agitated.

It was more than Mizo's waning convictions or forcible invitation to race the championship, it was more than Rayn beginning to dominate his thoughts, but that shadow outside, just beyond the door—it meant trouble.

Mizo only had subordinates tailed that he could no longer trust. And the tail had stopped Razer from acting on instinct to retreat to his residence or the track. Something was wrong. Something was going on outside that Mizo did not want Razer to know about—or react to.

A vibration inside Razer's dress jacket pocket alerted him to a call.

He juggled the cigarette to retrieve the phone and snapped it open.

"Quickly." He said.

"It's about Krew." The voice on the other end said. "Something's happened."

* * *

Rayn had settled into the leather seats of her limousine running a hand through her bangs. She stared across the floor a moment before the turning of her driver's head for directions broke her from her thoughts.

"Home, please."

The window between them rolled up as Rayn tugged at her sleeves to straighten them and stretched her toes. These heels were even hurting her when she had her weight off them. Toss the sodding bastard whoever invented the bloody torture traps for women's feet. A minute passed as they were underway when Rayn's fingers brushed the miniature firearm on her thigh and she realized she had left her purse on the dining table she had sat at. How irritating. There was nothing of value in the item, but matching accessories were damned near impossible to find without having to buy a new dress.

Well, she wouldn't have forgotten it if Razer had not thrust his hand before her face. The same hand that supported the small of her back on the dance floor. The same hand that arched over their near kiss at the end of the Lendler, the same hand that held her own gun to her heart.

Rayn rapidly shook her head of the thoughts. Her heart beating too quickly.

She drew her gaze out the window, looking for a distraction in the running brick of city buildings going by; but her mind simply would not be held at bay as it buzzed with thoughts of Razer in his handsome tux and how closely they had danced that evening, how intimately they had danced, how intense his green eyes could be.

Rayn tugged at her sleeves again, the inner compartment of the limousine suddenly very warm and she reached to open the window a crack. She shifted on her seat, crossed her legs opposite of what they had been, then back again. Rayn exhaled angrily at herself and reached forward for the complimentary chilled champagne in the ice box ahead of her when she was thrown forward.

Hair and dress askew, Rayn picked herself up off the carpet. She was about to furiously bang on the window separating her from the driver for a sharp reprimand when the driver side door opened and chauffeur was ripped from his seat. A gunshot exploded just outside the vehicle. All her anger was consumed by fear as Rayn scurried to the back of the interior compartment. Numerous black clad, armed men moved to surround the limousine. The woman's head jerked left and right at the sabotage, unbelieving what was happening. Her gun appeared in her lightly trembling hands.

Of course. These faceless thugs had to be Mizo's personal escort for Rayn—straight to the gates of Hell. Bloody rotting bastard. She should have known he would pull something like this after she'd delivered her ultimatum. She should have guessed he would attempt her assassination after she'd shown her brass—too much fight in her for the dodgy old wanker. She should have—

A pair of eyes peaked at her through the crack of the window beneath a ski mask. And Rayn sidled to the far side of the seat, her back pressing to the opposite door, her weapon raised. A window behind her shattered and glass blasted in all directions as an arm swung around her throat. Her gun was knocked from her grasp. She grappled with the offending appendage with both hands trying to force it off just as the staring thug across from her smashed his window and unlocked the door. He jumped into the car and tried to grab for one of Rayn's flailing legs. She kicked him squarely in the chest and the man bellowed as the heel connected with his ribs.

God damn them all! Where was _her_ escort? They had been hired for this very reason this evening. Any sabotage should have been detected and dealt with before it culminated to this savage opportunity.

The masked man stumbled back with a string of curse words and Rayn bit at her captor's arm with ill effect as the man she had kicked shook off his injury and reentered the vehicle.

"Don't make me hurt you, pretty lil' thing." The thug said, his eyes wrinkling from a grotesque smile as he lunged for her again. He succeeded in capturing both of her ankles as they swung for him and Rayn realized, with rising terror, that she really was trapped. The harder Rayn struggled, the more amused her captors became.

"She got some fight, this one." The man behind her said. "I can see why the boss was so keen to keep her alive so long."

"We just gonna take you somewhere nice; you kin take a load off and watch the championship go on wit-out cha. Then the boss can have you—after me." The thug yanked hard on Rayn's ankles and she was suddenly lying flat across the seats. Her punches glanced off the hardened braggart with no effect. Hands clamped at her wrists and forced them above her head. The man's weight crushed her back into the leather and his hot breath was on her neck. She turned her head sharply from his wanting lips and he instead bit at her jaw.

"I love me a woman that can fight." He breathed huskily, trailing sloppy kisses down her neck to the rise of her breasts. Rayn shrieked, bucking hard and the man laughed outright. "Can't wait, fer it? Aright, aright, I live ter please."

Rayn's hands were shifted into one of his as the other undid his pants. Now straddling her, Rayn saw her opportunity. She shoved her knee upward, hard.

The thug rolled off Rayn to the limousine floor, both hands to his privates and his eyes watering. Rayn dove after him and snatched up her gun; her expression fierce. The man looked up at her, his eyes and mouth wide with shock when a hole appeared between his eyes. His head snapped back as a crimson rain spattered the woman and surrounding upholstery. The resounding boom did not seem to register to the woman as she sat upright, not breathing, gun still raised and smoking.

A movement outside caught her eye and Rayn swung around as the man who had strangled her from behind leveled his gun into the vehicle compartment.

Rayn's chest tightened at the sight of another gun trained on her for a kill shot in one night and she froze; too shaken by her own kill to act.

Gunfire exploded in her ears.

Rayn waited for the bullet's violent entry into her chest, the searing pain, but instead the man outside went slack and fell to the ground.

Startled, the woman glanced around as the thugs who had assaulted her vehicle fell to the ground around her to a cacophony of shots. The sudden turn of events did not register in Rayn until another dark figure jumped into the compartment and grabbed the body at her feet. This figure was hooded, not masked, and made neither word nor predatory motions towards Rayn as he dragged the body out of the car. The door slammed behind them almost instantly.

Another hooded figure leapt into the empty driver's seat and the limousine was back in motion. Was this man one of those who wanted her dead or one of her own?

Rayn hesitated from the floor, propped on the leather seat with one elbow, her free hand rubbing at her throat and the sting of cloth that had lashed at it moments ago. Saliva still moistened her neck and she scrubbed furiously at it. Her throat tightened when the window rolled down partway.

"I'm taking you home, Ms. Krew."

Rayn's shoulders sagged in relief as the limousine tore through the night toward her estate.

* * *

"What happened?"

Razer had inhaled a particularly long drag that finished the better part of his cigarette and lit another. He stared out into the night envisioning all the evil that could have befallen Krew's return home. The voice on the other end of the line cleared his throat and spoke in calm, if hurried, tones.

"Krew's vehicle was attacked by one of Mizo's infiltration teams off 64th and Main. Eight in, two out. We took down the last two but—"

"Did Krew survive?" Razer cut across the report.

"Yes, sir. She had an escort, but half of them were discovered and destroyed by Mizo's team before they could react." Razer took another unhealthily long drag on his fresh cigarette.

"Stupid."

"Sir?" The voice asked in confusion.

"The crime lords spoke about twenty minutes ago and Mizo did seem irritated. Whatever Krew said to him must have snapped something. The retaliation was reckless." The racer's mind was working furiously to piece the puzzle together. Had Mizo planned it all from the start? Rayn had been invited tonight, a crime lord conversation in mind, but Mizo's response, her exit, and his tail…what did it mean? "But was this an exercise to remind what she's dealing with? Why would Mizo have her attacked?"

"We questioned one captive. It wasn't so much an attack as a capture mission. Said the plan was to take the girl and leave the team to operate without her. Cause civil unrest and uncertainty; since some of her own racers still don't trust her."

"I see." Razer said simply, but he remembered all too well how Jak had defended Rayn on the startup line and the boy surely would have rallied to her defense again had she disappeared. Perhaps more fearful for her safety than her possible disloyalty; never mind a coup between crime lords. Jak would have devoted time to finding her.

Razer squashed a rising indignation toward Jak's interference with Rayn—even an imagined one. The cards had not been dealt that way and Razer would not commit any more thought to it.

The plan would probably have backfired on Mizo either way.

The voice on the other line seemed to hesitate as his superior's silence, but continued on with the report anyway.

"I don't blame them. She shot one of Mizo's men point blank."

Razer's racing mind went blank.

"What?"

"Shocker, right? The entry wound was too small for our caliber weapons—it was more like a—"

"Miniature handgun?" Razer supplied, taken back to that moment he had twirled the tiny thieved weapon about his fingers.

"Wh…Why yes." The voice replied in astonishment. "How did you know?"

But Razer did not answer. Rayn had surprised him to complete silence. He didn't think she had it in her, some part of her seemed too pampered to stoop to murder in cold blood. And the way she had trembled when she held her firearm to his heart—Razer thought her incapable of taking life. Unless…she had been _severely_ provoked. And suddenly Mizo's debilitating tail outside was beginning to make sense…

"Our side suffered casualties as well. At least nine of our own were killed. The teams are getting smarter, we almost lost our cover."

Razer pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes.

"Perhaps giving Krew that receipt had been premature."

"With all due respect, sir, you walk a fine line."

"The threat was neutralized?" Razer glared back out into the night, dots of light flashed across his vision.

"Yes sir. Mizo is still unaware of our operations, but this particular shave drew blood."

"One of the two will die soon enough."

"This town isn't meant to house two crime lords." The voice sighed.

"Not even in tandem." Razer agreed, he tapped his cigarette ashes off outside the window. "Mizo's paranoia is growing worse. I have a second shadow."

"For his second in command?" the voice was in shock.

"I suppose I have been rather clumsy with evidence these past few days." Razer mused. "Mizo isn't doing much better. He knows my dislike for tails—friend or foe. And my blade often reacts before I can." Razer's fingertips brushed over his knife's hiding place in his vest.

"Mar. Do you need backup, sir?" A genuine concern laced the voice at the other end and Razer smiled.

"No. I have a plan ready." Razer took another drag and changed tack. "Any word on the confirmation of Greyson?"

"Not yet sir, but Crutch thinks he's found a lead. You could have your answer within the next couple of races."

"Time is short. I'll be disappointed if I don't have my answer by the championship."

"Y-y-yes sir. I'll pass along your concerns."

"Good. Keep a scout on Krew; if she's home she's safe for the time being. Concentrate our efforts on Mizo. That attack should not have been so devastating."

"Understood."

Razer snapped the phone shut again and finished his cigarette. He tossed it out the window and stared out into the night, eyes blank but mind racing.

"Damn."

A very soft creak came from the door and Razer remembered his shadow friend waiting for him outside the doors.

Razer reached into his dress jacket for his knife and snapped it open.

* * *

Gerard had dusted the same vase for about twenty minutes as his nervous gaze was torn between the main doors and the ticking clock. It was two thirty in the morning and he had heard no word of events on the outside. He tried calling Rayn's defensive team, but the line was dead, and he was deathly worried.

His chores were through for the evening, but the butler found that he simply could not sleep while his mistress was still at the enemy's fête. Mar knew what sort of danger she had placed herself in.

He felt entirely cut off from his mistress, the young charge he had sworn to protect since her mother's death. She had flown out into the night and he had nothing but an empty nest to keep and he was losing his mind with fear.

The night always seemed to take those closest to him. Trapped in his waiting hell, Gerard reopened an old wound in the form of his previous mistress: Evelyn Krew.

He still remembered that night vividly…Evelyn was dressed as though she were going to a business meeting, while her family dressed for travel. She had ushered her husband and child to the back entrance where a black limousine waited, pressing kisses to them each. The original chauffeur had already been replaced with one of Evelyn's agents and the house steadily emptied of its treasures all year long. Nothing of value remained. Evelyn had vouched for her sources who claimed that Mizo would come for them all and tonight was the night to disembark.

She said she would join them after speaking with one last friend.

Krew had been much more fit at the time, though he was pushing towards obesity from stress involving the underground, he grunted at the intimation and took his daughter's hand. Rayn, dear Rayn, she had been so young—shook out of her father's grasp and ran, sapphire pigtails bouncing, to her mother's embrace; demanding why the woman did not join them. Evelyn murmured assurances and affections that quieted her daughter and Rayn went away with Krew through the door.

Evelyn had come to him then and Gerard could see a terrible sadness hovering about her despite her smile.

"_Gerard, protect my daughter." She said softly and Gerard's face fell as he was confronted by the light of understanding._

"_You don't mean to come back, do you?" he replied with equal disquiet. Evelyn's sun gold eyes dropped._

"_It's complicated, but I gave my word. I hope to change a life tonight. And…I see no other way." She cupped his cheek when Gerard was overcome. "I've kept a diary detailing everything. You should receive it when my spies think it's appropriate. Don't show it to my husband, I-I couldn't bear it." She shook her head in shame and her hand on his cheek retreated to her heart. "Please. Please give it to her when she's older—when she's ready to…to forgive me."_

_Gerard was stunned into silence as Evelyn glanced at the clock behind him._

"_Oh, the time." Evelyn moaned and pushed Gerard toward the door where the rest of her family waited for him. "He may act before you've gone." _

"_He? Who threatens you, my lady? Let me take your place. I would sooner die than you be removed from your daughter." Gerard moved to pass the woman, but fear lent its strength to Evelyn and she was shoving him to the door with all her might._

"_No! I've already said too much. Leave now! Leave before everything comes to ruin." Gerard yielded to her demands and entered the vehicle. Evelyn's eyes shimmered as she stood at the door. Rayn had climbed over Gerard to wave to her mother out the half open window._

"_Bye, Mommy. See you soon." Rayn pressed her little fingers to her lips and blew her mother a kiss, Evelyn was quick to mimic the gesture._

"_I love you, darling." The limousine pulled out of the long garage and Evelyn waved, before pressing her hand to her mouth._

It was the last Gerard had ever seen of her. Rayn had already been enrolled in private school, at her mother's wish, when an anonymous personage returned the woman's body to her husband. Krew's howl of agony at the discovery of his wife's death still resonated within the butler to this day. The story was she had been shot to death in a scuffle. No one knew who the culprit had been.

It was not until years later a name was tagged with the ambiguous murder: Mizo.

The information was shaky, but the scraggly suggestion was enough and Krew leapt upon the accusation like a lurker shark on a flut flut to relieve his grief. Someone would pay and he didn't care who. Krew spent his last years of life hunting the man down, placing bets and gambling with the crime lord from Kras City in an attempt to uncover his identity, with no luck.

Mizo had a middle man in an narcissistic, flashy, superficial reporter by the name of G. T. Blitz.

Gerard had still not related Evelyn's supposed death by Mizo to Rayn. Neither had Krew. All Rayn knew was that her mother met her end at the hands of an unknown crime lord and that her father had wanted to destroy his rival in Kras and Rayn was trying her hardest to realize her father's wish.

And now Mizo was snapping at Rayn's heels and she had played right into his hands.

The butler looked at the clock again.

Two thirty-one.

Gerard dusted vigorously at the vase.

And he had let her go! Perhaps if he had advised her of his trepidations, she might have had second thoughts attending. He was certain he could have convinced her to stay had he been given the chance to argue. But the girl was headstrong, just like her father.

If she won the city, the city her father had worked so hard to seize from Mizo and give her, she would face innumerable dangers. And so many more than her predecessors, more than Krew and Mizo combined because she was a woman. The death threats would come pouring in, rebellions, uprisings in the form of haggard, mutinous, faceless enemies—a veritable revolution! She could very well win the city but the lower bosses would tear her to pieces. An image of his young mistress broken and bleeding in her bed flashed through the man's mind again. Gerard felt faint.

_Oh, if anything happens to her, I'd—I'd—_

But Gerard did not finish what horrors he would commit as he heard the dull roar of an engine pull into the drive. Gerard froze. Had his mistress finally returned home safe or was this the welcoming band in a hostile crime lord takeover?

Doors outside slammed. Only two. Certainly no regiment of enemy soldiers, but just enough for someone to escort his charge from the vehicle to the doorway.

The front doors swung open. A spasm of pure relief flooded the man as a woman in a formal green dress threw herself around the door and locked it immediately. The butler promptly dropped his feather duster and rushed to greet his panting mistress.

"Oh Rayn dear, thank Mar that you're—"

Terror seized his heart as he hurried to her side; the young woman's face was wet with flecks of crimson. The relief he had felt moments ago seemed never to have existed now.

"Good lord, what's happened to you?" he demanded, holding the woman at armslength, but she stared past him; her eyes glazed. The man rushed away at once to retrieve a hot towel from the washroom. When he returned, his mistress had not moved from her fatigued slump against the door. Gerard gently dabbed at the woman's face and she submitted to the ministrations, her mind some distant place.

Focus settled back into her eyes as the butler scrubbed a particularly large dried red patch and Rayn brushed his gentle hands away.

"The guard?" she croaked and immediately cleared her throat. Gerard made no sign of discomfort to her embarrassed cough.

"Doubled. All doors and windows have been locked and barred. There is no finer fortress that ever existed for home security." He smiled at her. Rayn nodded and pushed herself up from the door, dangerously tottering in place. Gerard shouted as his mistress stumbled forward. His arms shot out to catch her and she slumped into his embrace. She came back to herself almost instantly and she looked up into her butler's face as though realizing he was truly there for the first time. An unspoken fear hovered at the corner of his eyes, and had Gerard not been in her service so many years, he would have missed the tell. A hardness swept to hide the emotion he saw and Rayn straightened.

"Thank you, Gerard." She said dismissively, as though he had just fetched the paper for her. Her amber eyes strayed to the blood stained towel he held before glancing sharply away. "I'll be fine." A small but insincere smile graced her features and Gerard was through playing the servant.

"Nonsense. You're having tea and that's that." Gerard did not see Rayn smile affectionately after him as he hurried to the kitchen to put a pot on. "You sit in the den. I'll be there in a jiffy."

The man bustled about the kitchen, pouring water, working the stove, placing cups and saucers neatly on a tray; but all the while his thoughts were of his lady's pallid face marred with blood. He recognized such a barbaric painting from his days in the infantry. Someone, who had been close enough to his young mistress to knock chins, had been shot point blank. But who and why? The blood he wiped from her had just dried and it was certainly not hers, meaning the attack had been very recent.

Gerard's motions over the teacups slowed and his eyes wandered to the reddened towel on the island counter.

Whose blood was this? Who had died tonight? How Rayn had survived such an assault was a mystery.

Gerard could only hope that his lady would not keep him guessing or anxiety would make his heart burst.

The teapot issued a harsh, low whistle, drawing the butler back to reality and Gerard took it from the fire before it could scream. He poured the boiling water over the dried jasmine leaves and hurried through the foyer to the den, unhappy to have left his distressed mistress alone so long.

Gerard had supplied a fire in the hearth in the hopes that he could read quietly until Rayn returned that evening, but he instead found himself at the mercy of a wickedly dusty vase in the main hall which was conveniently positioned by the clock. Rayn had already draped herself over one high back leather chair, her stiletto heels removed, staring blankly into the fireplace. Gerard recognized the weary slouch and caving shoulders of a woman deeply unsettled. From the back, Gerard may have been taking tea to Evelyn herself.

Rayn started when Gerard handed her a saucer and cup filled with steaming jasmine tea, which he quickly took back when the china clattered against each other and he wrapped a heavy blanket around her instead. He placed the tea on the table top between them and took the seat opposite her. Rayn smiled in a mix of condescension and appreciation.

"I f-feel like I'm f-five again." She muttered.

"I feel as relieved as a racehorse that's relieved itself just before the race." He quipped immediately. Rayn giggled, her teeth chattering. At Gerard's furrowed brow, she quickly closed her lips in on themselves and stared instead at the fire.

"Up for a chin wag on the highlights?" Gerard ventured hesitantly across from her. Rayn's eyes flickered toward her butler from over her knees. "I've been worried sick." He added when she seemed uneasy about sharing.

"I wonder if mother always had a plan," she murmured, "I thought what I had was foolproof."

"Mizo rejected you then?" Gerard encouraged softly as his mistress' eyes glazed.

"Quite the contrary." His mistress' voice had become distant again. "He chafed at first, going so far as to offer partnership more in desperation than true bargaining but," her eyebrows knit, "…he agreed to the terms. Then my vehicle was attacked on the way home."

"Good lord." Gerard wheezed breathlessly. "Where was your escort?"

"Late." Rayn spat, her eyes unfocused. "But…but there were others. Hooded men, not from my ranks, nor Mizo's."

"Who were they then?"

"I don't know." Rayn had fallen silent and Gerard studied her carefully. She had lapsed into a silent brainstorm to conjure the answer and the man did not dare interrupt her. It was indeed a mystery. Who would have reinforcements that would consent to aid her when she was the challenger in a fight for the city? The woman's eyes narrowed. It appeared she had arrived at a conclusion she found unfavorable.

Gerard pushed his bounds.

"And the blood?"

Rayn quivered slightly under her blanket, her head sinking below her shoulders, and her lips hidden behind her knees.

"I…I shot someone."

Gerard felt a shock jolt into the base of his skull. His little mistress had held firearms before, even emptied whole rounds into targets, but she had never been presented the need to puncture flesh with bullets so far as he knew. Her blank expression confirmed Gerard's suspicions. He felt at once relieved that this event took greater consequence to his mistress than her meeting with Mizo, but there was almost nothing more disturbing to an innocent than that first execution. And Gerard had no doubt—that shot had been point blank.

Rayn would not sleep tonight.

"I don't understand, Rayn." The butler shifted uncomfortably in his seat as her amber gaze settled on him once more. "Mizo agreed to your plans, then he attacked your vehicle? Surely that would be a breach of contract?"

"Not necessarily." Rayn pulled the blanket taut over her legs. "He agreed not to cheat in the races—in short—to honor his contract with my father and peaceably leave when he loses." Rayn lost her nerve and looked instead at the fire, nibbling her lip. Her voice had grown so soft that Gerard had to strain to hear over the crackle of the fire. "His aim in the attack wasn't to kill me, it was to capture me. He doesn't want me participating in the final race. He just wants me at the end of the finish line. Waiting." Rayn's face screwed up with disgust. "If I lose, he wants me to fulfill my mother's debt."

The butler choked on his tea.

"Sweet mother of Mar, the twisted fiend!"

"How could my mother have allowed herself to stoop so low?"

Rayn was shaking despite the warmth in the den. Her teeth were bared and her eyes flashing. Gerard replaced his cup and saucer and spoke with as much solemnity as he could muster.

"Lady Krew was no fool."

His words had the opposite effect on Rayn. She threw off the blanket to stand, running her hands through her untidy sapphire hair. Gerard was familiar with the tantrum that would follow.

"Right. I was five when she left us. Five." Gerard did not dare remind her that he had been there that terrible night. Rayn began pacing before the fireplace. "I hardly knew her. I couldn't even grow up with my father, since he sent me to private school immediately. Hardly a quarter into my first year and I get the news she's died. I grew up without my family. Then I get this law document she drew up ages ago with one Gilroy T. Blitz. She signed a contract to protect my birth from the crime wars only in agreement to leave us afterward! Just pick up and leave her home and family without looking back. And now look where it's landed me. A perverted man twice my age wants me at his beck and call."

"Only to be fulfilled if you lose." Gerard thought it a good time to interject as Rayn's motions became more uncontrolled. "I've seen Jak on the tracks—the boy is a racing genius."

"Even so," Rayn tossed her head angrily, "Razer is racing in the championship—racing _again_ and in the bloody championship—and mark me there will be Hell to pay. I tried to talk him out of it," Gerard's gaze fixed on Rayn, "but this is his redemption, and God forbid we injure his pride. Like there aren't more important things in life."

Gerard studied his mistress, but said nothing as she placed her hands on the mantle, leaning against it as though the weight of the world had been thrown on her shoulders.

"Razer's promised Jak's death." She sighed in exhaustion as her head dropped below her shoulders. "How am I supposed to beat him?"

The faintest trace of hopelessness in his mistress' voice made Gerard get to his feet. He closed the distance between them and looked for her downcast eyes.

"Jak will win." He placed a hand on her forearm and Rayn looked up at him. Her amber eyes glistened once with unspent emotion. "Jak will win. Have you already forgotten how he managed to place first without weapons or defenses just a few races ago?"

A small smile crept across her features.

"Thirteen."

Gerard clasped more tightly at her arm. "Don't let that blasted Blitz bother you; he'll get exactly what's coming to him—even if I have to tear the old musket off the wall." Rayn exhaled a small laugh. They both knew the musket was more ornament than weapon and would sooner melt than accurately fire musket balls.

"Still, I wouldn't treat the man as any less of a threat; but if he attempts anything like he did tonight again I will kill the sodding prat. Pardon my language. But from where I'm standing, there will only be one more on our team to race the championship. Whoever takes the second slot will have to guard Jak's back as ferociously as Razer will want to fire upon it. You may want to consider sitting back the last race."

"But I thought if I raced, Razer would—" Rayn stopped short and her guilty look did not evaporate fast enough for Gerard's trained eye. The retired champion cropped up in more and more of his mistress' conversations. The development froze the butler's innards with more ferocity than the fact that Rayn had taken a life that night.

"I would hesitate where that Razer man is concerned." Her butler said lowly. Rayn shifted under his gaze. "I saw him race in the Blue Eco Cup. The man's a killer and what's more, he has his chance at redemption. You said so yourself: He's out for retribution."

Rayn's mouth opened and shut again. Gerard saw her being transported to another place before him, no doubt to revisit some event she had shared with the retired champion. Evelyn would get that same faraway stare when she spoke about Krew. Gerard was seized with a sudden worry.

"Was Razer there tonight?" he pried. Rayn snapped back from another world and stepped back, replacing enough distance between them so that Gerard was forced to drop his hand.

"He was."

"And?"

Rayn was deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"We spoke."

The knot in Gerard's stomach was twisting uncomfortably.

"Rayn, the racer is an enemy. He works for Mi—"

"Everyone is my enemy, Gerard." Rayn snapped coldly; the increasing annoyance of Gerard's coddling had reached its breaking point. "Even my own racers who begrudgingly work beneath me because of poisoning. Thank you for reminding just how alone I am in all this."

Rayn stormed out of the den and into the foyer. She was halfway up the stairs before Gerard could reach the landing. He watched his young mistress go with frustration and a growing void of fear.

* * *

Rayn was very silent the next morning.

When she opened her mouth it was only to fill her stomach on Gerard's generous breakfast of eggs Benedict, French toast, Belgium waffles, German sausages, smoked ham and poppy seed muffins. Gerard only cooked so expansively when he was tense—especially on her behalf. They had not uttered a word to each other besides a brief, obligatory morning salutation. Apparently neither felt prepared to breach the events of last night.

She felt awful about their row when he had greeted her with nothing but relief and tenderness, but at the same time, she didn't want to argue with him when there was so much else on her mind.

She had not slept a wink and the shock at her own crime haunted her with the horrible clarity. She saw the hole appear over and over between his eyes even with her eyes open. Rayn had rationalized that it was due to happen, with her aspirations, and it was just another stepping stone on her path forward. No matter how devastating the blemish on her soul made her suffer.

Rayn thought instead of another moment that same night; a moment she had shared with a retired champion on an open, empty dance floor—a moment where nothing else existed save for themselves.

She held to the memory like a flame in the darkness as she tried desperately to shut out the nameless, faceless thug that had attacked her only a few hours prior.

She had a meeting. Yes. She had a meeting early that morning with her team to discuss the plan of attack for the Yellow Cup Grand Prix, which would hopefully shut out all other thought. The championship was seven races away; three days…and she had been counting down. The positions were mostly locked up and Gerard had been right; Rayn would only get two of her racers in the final prix. Mizo would get four.

Her stomach lurched at the thought and Rayn regretted the particularly large helping of waffle and syrup she had just finished.

Rayn polished off her glass of milk and stood, taking her dishes to the sink. No use putting off her meeting any longer. Strangely enough, she took solace in the company of her racing team, though she tried to keep her mind off the utter betrayal she would exact on them the moment she won the bet against Mizo.

She gathered up her things and hesitated only a split second at the lock on the front doors before she unbolted it and turned the brass knob.

"Rayn!"

The young woman turned to look over her shoulder and was swept up into a tight hug. Surprise kept her from returning the intimation when the hold fell away as suddenly as it had come. Rayn reached out but her butler was already back in the kitchen before she could speak.

"Thank you." She murmured before walking out the door.

Rayn arrived at the racing garage to find most of the racers had beaten her there.

Ashelin and Torn were sitting side by side on the round red sofa, watching the live broadcast on the big screen. Torn had his arm around Ashelin. Rayn spared a glance at the flashing screen and threw a haphazard glare when Blitz appeared to deliver whatever morning sermon he deemed fit for that day. Rayn continued to the bar muttering curses about the reporter under her breath.

Rayn paused in the doorway when she found Jak and Keira sitting closer together than Torn and Ashelin had been. With their backs to her, Rayn looked on quietly as the pair murmured soft nothing to each other. Their shoulders pressed together and their heads tilted toward one another, knowing nothing of the world around them. Something turned over in Rayn's stomach and she regretted again having eaten so lavishly before such a big meeting.

The woman wanted to announce herself, to call them to attention for the meeting, but she could not bring herself to break this tender moment. She was wrestling with herself and an emotion that she dared not name, but was familiar to every girl who felt her territory was being tread on too lightly.

Something heavy fell on Rayn's shoulder and she jumped.

"Hey Rayn. We've got a meeting this morning, right?" Sig smiled warmly down at Rayn as she recovered herself, not sure how many more surprises she could handle. "Hey you lovebirds! We got a get together if you can drag yourselves away to join us."

Jak and Keira broke apart with sheepish smiles as Sig and Rayn turned for the conference room. Sig clasped the far side of Rayn's arm and steered her off to one side of the garage so only she could hear.

"You all right? Your eyes are all red. You sleep OK?" Sig drilled her but Rayn was ready with all the answers and disarming smiles to deflect the questions. Sig left her company not entirely satisfied, but he didn't press her.

"If everyone could be seated?" Rayn took her place at the head of the conference table and placed her fingertips on the flat oak surface as the team settled. "Right, to the first order of business. As I'm sure you're all aware, the Yellow Cup Grand Prix is in three days with seven races left." Rayn sighed. "And…Razer will be in the championship."

A chorus of disbelief rose around the table and Rayn nodded her assent to each complaint.

"Quite true, I'm afraid. I wish it weren't possible myself, I just thought I would warn everyone. And Jak…" Rayn cast the blond racer a discomfited gaze that spoke volumes of Razer's vengeance. Jak nodded somberly.

"I know. His reputation is riding on this; I'd be pulling out all the stops too." He acknowledged sagely.

"So with that in mind; it looks like we will have two slots to fill for the championship. Now, one goes to Jak of course, but who is going to fill the second slot?" Rayn glanced about the room, but all eyes were on her. "Anyone?" she prompted.

"We already talked it over. We think you should race."

Rayn was astonished to see Ashelin the first to rally—and in her, Rayn's, favor.

"Me?" Rayn said.

"You were pretty amazing out there." Sig complemented. "I'll never forget how you wasted that damned tin can '86."

"And your teamwork with Jak is just what we need in this race." Torn added. "Defensively and offensively."

Rayn was sure she was red as a beet for all the compliments and she turned her shy amber gaze to Jak. Jak was smiling warmly at her and Rayn could not stop her heart fluttering at the easy expression. But beside Jak, Keira shot Rayn a withering glare of deepest loathing. Rayn's exhilaration abated a little. Gerard's words came rushing back to her in that cold glance. Jak needs someone who would guard him passionately.

Rayn glanced down at the table and steeled herself.

"I don't want to race." Shocked faces met Rayn's stare. All except Keira who still wore a look of hatred. "I think Keira should—"

"I can't race." Keira shouted, suddenly on her feet. Every head had turned to stare at the green-haired girl as though she had grown two heads. "And even if I could, I don't need your charity. It must be so nice, it must be so _easy_ for you. Daddy gave his spoiled rich little girl everything she could ever want or need. All the cars, all the tools, the mobile garage—he even got you all the _racers_ you needed to drive your combat cars. Doesn't anyone else see how _convenient_ this is? Oh yes, let everything bow to the mighty will of Rayn. Have your last race. Win all your glory. Win your dirty father his trophy. But I swear to God if you lose the championship, you'll be dead before the poison kills you."

And Keira stormed out. Jak shouted after her, rising out of his seat to follow, but Sig made a sharp motion for Jak to stay, this meeting was more for him than any of them and Sig followed Keira out. Uncomfortable gazes settled on the young lady at the head of the conference table.

Rayn had taken the one-sided attack rather well, though her eyebrows had knit. She clicked her nails on the table.

"To be honest," Rayn cleared her throat with a small smile, "I've been waiting for that. I'm sure it's what all of you have been thinking about me over these past weeks." Rayn exhaled. "Now that's in the open, does anyone have any other grievances to add?"

"I think Keira pretty much covered it." Jak spoke up, but not with malice. His statement was more to put Rayn at ease than ostracize her and she happily took it.

"Right. Well, let's discuss tactics. We've got a magilla of a race ahead of us and I have no intention, as Keira plainly staked my life on it, to lose."

* * *

Across town, G.T. Blitz was holding his own meeting about the final prix to his consignment of prized racers.

Among the ranks stood UR-86, the head competitor of the Green Eco Cup; Kleiver, the main contender of the Red Eco Cup; and Razer, the racing champion recently disgraced in the Blue Eco Cup. Blitz paced before his rapt audience.

"Well boys," he began jovially, "it comes down to this. The last race, the final prix, the finishing circuit, the Yellow Cup Grand Prix. The championship." Blitz let the last word hang on the air, forgetting that he was speaking to a select group and not broadcasting for a wide audience. "And we have managed to secure four racers over our rival's two. So really," Blitz swung his arms out, palms facing upward, "there should be no reason at all to lose this prix to our young and inexperienced upstart, Jak."

A reprise of angry grunts met the name of their most hated adversary on the tracks. That boy had shamed every racer in Blitz's presence and each wanted to wreck havoc on the damned boy.

"I know, I know." Blitz made a placating gesture and continued. "But I've called you three here because you are my best and this is your chance to offset your horrendous combined losses and get even with the boy."

"Who is the fourth representative?" Razer asked curtly, but not without a hint of curiosity. Blitz's smile quirked once for the cut across his speech, but he answered nonetheless.

"I am." He said. Both Kleiver and UR-86 glanced toward each other, but Razer stared at the man across from them. Blitz did not break eye contact with Razer even as his smile cracked a grin.

"You, boss?" Kleiver stumbled into the conversation. "Er, not to come off as rude, but it's goin' ta be dangerous out there."

"I'm well aware, Kleiver, my good man. But I myself was a racer not so long ago." Blitz turned his back to his boys, his hands folded behind his back and he rocked onto the balls of his feet. "Not to toot my own horn, gracious no, but I was pretty damned good then too. Could sight a pigeon on the straightaway and shoot it down two hundred feet back. A quick crash course and I'll be good as new I think. Just ask Razer; trained the boy myself and can you argue with those results?"

Kleiver looked at Razer for a confirmation, but Razer's emerald gaze was fixed on the boss. Kleiver tried again.

"But, boss, you haven't raced in…in years. And me and the boys may get a little rough out there, what with us having a bone to pick with Jak." Kleiver did not see Razer's sharp gaze fall on him.

"Don't think I can keep up with you, Kleiver?" Blitz tilted his head, his back still to the lot of them. A chill had crept into his voice and the big Wastelander caved.

"Er, no, I mean yes, I mean it could be kinda—"

"When was this decided?" Razer interjected.

"Oh, I was inspired last night." Blitz said airily, knowing full well that Razer would understand his hidden meaning. "Especially since our little Rayn will be joining us on the tracks."

UR-86's neck cylinders swiveled loudly in the following silence.

"Boss, I just don't think it will be safe for yo—" Kleiver began but the automaton that had stood silently by rose to his full height.

"His words are final. He will race." UR-86 ground out in an array of churning gears and spitting wires.

"Thank you, '86." Blitz turned to face the racers again. "So now you all know. We're going to be the formidable team that crushes Jak once and for all. It should make headlines. I have all intentions and every favorable incentive to win this championship." Then Blitz was suddenly muttering to himself and the racers were straining to hear this private monologue. "Win or lose, I'll get that girl's neck on a leash. Still, I'd prefer not to force a hostile takeover; didn't go over so well last time." The reporter's voice had strengthened again. "So don't fail me boys. If you do, don't bother coming back. Any of you. Do you have something you'd like to add, Razer?" Blitz asked lightly, having caught the nasty, irreverent flash in Razer's eyes at the threat of unconditional dismissal.

Razer walked across the room to the exit.

"Jak is mine. If any of you get in my way, I will kill you."

Blitz smiled dangerously after his protégé as the door closed to the conference room.

* * *

**Author's Note: These chapters keep running away with me. I had to reread a few chapters myself, because I had promised to tie up loose ends later and later was suddenly here. Wow. So much going on again. Rayn's being pushed to crime lordhood in the most violent ways. Poor thing! I figured she hasn't seen much action (why? *cough* who else?!) on the front lines and she was due for some. And dash it all, Razer couldn't be there to protect her--Mizo is going all nuts not trusting his subordinates and entering himself into races. (He's so lovable, isn't he Luv2Game?) I wanted to get into Mizo's head a bit in Razer's conversation. That was a little different for me, so I hope I pulled that off all right. This chapter itself was particularly hard, it's really the last one I get to fill in blanks before the YCGP starts up next chapter. Those are going to be all action and little else. So if this chapter seemed like filler--I apologize!! It's all important!**

**Rayn was so hard to pin down again (right Renji? lol!)--I left off with her super tough, 'I is not afraid to keel joo' shooting out scotch glasses badass, and she started to get weepy on me. No way! Rayn's too smart for that sort of thing, but maybe not invincible to slings in dealing death herself. That's what subordinates are for. Delegate! Gah! I hope Rayn leveled off nicely despite something so traumatizing. She's too busy to muse over the consequences of a budding crime lord's actions, right?**

**Razer I was pretty happy with, though he's gone more stoic since Blitz stepped in. Very few insights into his psyche and I already miss him. HAHA! But hey, he's still getting face time--and I'm loving the mystery still surrounding him. Has he chosen sides yet? It sounds like he's waiting for some kind of confirmation. And what the devil happened to Rayn's earrings?? EEE! I lurv the Saucy.**

**Ok, so I figure I'm going to be writing out the last prix and that could comprise two chapters, like I did last time. Ooo, it's gonna be juicy.**

**Thank you all for reading and I hope to hear from you! Please review!**

**Blackfire 18**


	15. Crime Lord Reverie

**Chapter 15: Crime Lord Reverie**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters here within (minus Gerard, Evelyn and Marcus Cunningham, Crutch), they are property of Naughty Dog etc.**

Mizo was leaning against a guardrail as his indigo gaze raked over the silent, dark stretch of the Dethdrome. His feet were flush to the checkered starting line.

The sun had set some time ago and Mizo had been there to watch its steady descent.

The track he stood over would serve as the last race in the Kras City Grand Championship. The final race held on the deadliest track in the world. The same track his father had won his first championship on. The same track his father died on.

The same track Gilroy T. Blitz would win or lose a city on. It was so strange how fate had tied him to this single circuit and how it would again decide his future.

The crime lord sniffed and rubbed at his nose.

He had already run it three times that day. His average time had been 4:39:55 with 4:28:03 as his best time. He had been able to shave a few seconds by cleaning up some of the turns. Granted, there would be a margin of error with attack and evasion in the real sprint, but Mizo hoped that would not add more than twenty seconds to his time. After all, the odds were four against two and his vehicle was a virtual tank of armament.

The man glanced over his shoulder to look fondly at the Road Blade that sat a short ways back, hidden in shadows and he gave the car a small, genuine smile.

It felt good to race again, though Mizo was a bit too preoccupied to appreciate the wind in his face and the roar of the road beneath him as his main concern was time and those horrible seconds as they ticked by.

He had forgotten what it felt like to get behind the wheel; he was so used to narrating the events on the track from on high. He had been happy enough with the knowledge that he owned the track. Krew had owned it once; without ever knowing it had been his.

_It never had been_. Mizo thought resentfully. The track had been Evelyn's.

But Mizo had paid off the right authorities to claim the weapon lord's racing assets and he did so with flourish. The Cunningham family, virtually free of criminal dealings (minus Marcus' addiction to gambling), was snapped up by a young crime lord destined for greatness. Just as he had always planned.

And there was no greater track than the Dethdrome.

It was a gem in his collection of racing properties in the syndicate. And it had such history. Dear Marcus Cunningham had certainly not spearheaded the sport, but the Dethdrome was the first official track to host the delectable marriage of racing and combat. Marcus had timed everything to the ripest moment and a young Gilroy had been efficient reaping the fruit of Cunningham's labors; toppling the man from the billions he would have made.

Mizo's empire would not have existed had it not been for the Cunningham family.

The crime lord's thoughts strayed to Lady Cunningham's daughter and his face twisted in the dim lights lining the track.

Rayn's brazenly heroic speech about already owning the city whether she won or lost had fallen on doubtful ears. But Mizo launched a fanatical search through records and was horrified to find the woman had not been bluffing. At the start of the racing season, Rayn had drawn out devastating returns her father had set up for her in bonds at her birth and she opened a bank in Kras City. She enticed investors with low interest rates and high annual yields and, accruing more and more money, she began to purchase stock from his, Mizo's, most successful companies.

And what was more, she had dipped her dainty fingers into the gambling pool. Mizo was shocked to learn how many had fallen to the allure of Jak in winning the championship and several of his closest friends were betting against him!

Investors, stock brokers, gang lords, even the public were falling into the swirling vortex of Rayn's sordid production to seize power. There were so many reins in her hands that a simple flick of the wrist would send the city into chaos.

Just as she had promised.

Mizo could not believe his eyes.

He called agent after agent, broker after broker, the numbered buttons sticking beneath his mashing fingers. Each man reported back with the same figures of Rayn's slow and tortuous takeover right below Mizo's nose.

Rayn was terrifying. Her efficiency and intellect had stealthily acquired her the city with ingenious business tactics more suited to the greatest names of crime lord history. The girl was in a league of her own. All the beauty of her mother and the criminal intent of her father. And for the first time in a long time, Mizo was afraid. Afraid enough to race himself and win the only thing saving him from utter defeat to the Krew crime family: The bet.

Mizo had worked too long, too hard to lose his racing syndicate. And he had an ace.

It had been a curious takeover when Mizo came to power with regard to the Cunningham estate. Krew never came to Mizo's doorstep demanding his property be returned. Evelyn had hidden her inheritance from Krew, claiming that Roy Blitz had taken over the business in her stead. In truth, Evelyn had owned it all that year before Mizo killed his father. And Mizo had only discovered recently, alongside this tidbit, that Evelyn had signed over all of her racing investments, tracks, documents, to Rayn Krew.

Krew had unknowingly gambled the Cunningham estate document with his own assets for this end all wager.

Rayn would only receive the document containing the estate, and consequently the inheritance her mother had left her, if she won the bet. Otherwise Mizo had a very real chance of winning everything he had ever wanted…except perhaps Krew's girl.

So when he remembered the attack he had issued on Rayn after their illuminating chat, he had been too late to stop it. Having the girl under his heel would have been a nice offset before the championship began, but he did not expect to capture her. It didn't really matter, he could have blamed the assault as a fluke. He already knew where Rayn stood and he would either have her or destroy her.

No. The attack orchestrated on Rayn had not been for Rayn, but Razer.

The boy had had numerous opportunities to bring Krew to her knees, but he had botched each meeting. The crime lord had taught him too well. Mizo had the racer followed, but Razer was too slick to expose the information Mizo was looking for, so the crime lord went after the racer's dubious interest. Rayn. Razer's elite clandestine team came out of the woodworks to protect her.

Mizo had known of Razer's band of misfits for some time and had allowed the younger racer to believe that he knew nothing of the contacts. And the ranks grew. Razer was a ring leader of an impressive group and each man under his command was undyingly loyal to the champion. He and Razer shared many men in the force and Mizo was beginning to suspect some of his own turning to follow Razer's lead.

For the life of him, the crime lord could not pinpoint the cause of the betrayal. Surely not because of Krew? Rayn had a pretty face and a body to match, but what had she done that could have cracked Razer's groomed loyalty? Hollow promises of fatter paychecks and a pension fit for a king? Faster cars? Better hours? Bribery? Blackmail?

Mizo thought back to some of the wrongs he had exacted on the retired champion and prayed Razer had never learned of.

And why would the woman go to such lengths to get his golden boy?

It was with rising apprehension that Mizo realized he could not have both prizes, the young crime lady and racer, and sleep soundly at night.

Mizo looked out over the city again, feeling his chokehold of power slipping from his fingers.

It would be such a shame. He had put a lot of time, effort, and money into the young boy from Damien, he wasn't sure he could bear to part with Razer. The champion was like a son to him.

And Razer had been the one to tell him about the documents detailing Krew's death and Jak's involvement. And the boy had pressed her for information about the final race and the strange insurgence of agents under her command.

_Rayn_, Mizo's strained grin did not prevent a sudden cock of the man's head. He had allowed her to live; allowed Evelyn that happiness and she had betrayed him. Rayn was a prize owed him since Evelyn had broken her contract. Rayn _belonged_ to him.

The girl would race. Mizo had decided then and there that Razer would have his chance to prove his allegiance and destroy her on the tracks, otherwise, his death awaited him at the end of the finish line. He had had Razer many wonderful years, but the boy was losing his edge if the Blue Eco Cup was any measure of it, and Mizo wanted the companionship that Rayn would bring after his long, lonely years at the top. He wanted sons and daughters to spoil.

The crime lord shook his head free of a beach home cast in the setting sun with three beautiful, growing children sprinting and splashing in the surf as their sapphire-haired mother lay with him on the sand, nuzzling his chest; those amber eyes smiling up at him, content.

Mizo stared blankly out over the Dethdrome.

It would have to be Rayn or Razer.

He could not have both of those savagely intelligent minds working against him.

Just then, the crime lord heard the dull roar of several racing engines approaching the starting line. At the head of the pack snarled the familiar spine armor of a red and black Havoc V12. Mizo carefully stepped backward over the guardrail and retreated into the shadows.

Razer drew up, a generous lead on the next closest fellow, and he spun circles until Shiv, Edje, and Cutter passed him with the shouts and cries of a wild ride into the night. There was no volley of screaming weapons or dropping of mines. Mizo was witnessing a simple, pure race. An old-fashioned race. The team was out on the track after dark to race for fun.

The crime lord watched the proceedings with a strange, removed cold. His hand reached back to touch the warm hood of his Road Blade.

The Havoc drifted sideways down the track before straightening and leaping after the boys as they arranged themselves to block him from passing. Mizo saw the Havoc slide effortlessly between an accidental gap and take the lead.

Mizo looked on grimly. He was not anxious over Razer's promise to destroy Jak, the crime lord was all too happy to support the endeavor, but the champion's preoccupation with his rival was problematic. Reviewing the Blue Eco Cup's final race revealed Razer's crushing defeat to the credit of Rayn's well placed grenade volley. The shot was perfect. She had had him right where she wanted him. And the woman still breathed weeks after the event despite her and the racer's prolonged proximity to one another.

The racer was still an expert on the track and a master of blades, if Mizo's dead tail had anything to say about it, but some part of that exterior was slipping.

Watching the boy made Mizo reconsider his earlier thoughts.

Razer had not lost his edge, but he may have developed a dullness along the teeth of the serration. A weakness that needed mending—or Mizo would find a new knife.

Mizo could not have both, but he would not lose the city he had shed sweat, blood, and tears for.

As the roar of many combat engines faded into the night, Mizo dropped into the seat of his vehicle and drove away from the track.

* * *

Planning took a few hours.

A general plan of attack was drawn up for the races that comprised the Yellow Cup Prix, but most of the tactics were devised for how to avoid being gunned down, knocked out, boxed in, cornered, blockaded, and overwhelmed by firepower.

Jak had his orders—stay well ahead of the fray and not to get trapped if he fell back, while Rayn's role was a bit more ambiguous. With her high-speed combat car, she could weave in and out of danger, take down enemies from behind, and provide Jak a swerving smoke screen to make him an impossible target to hit. Her position in the race depended on the situations that presented themselves and the following action to be accurate and immediate. Ultimately, her role was to flank Jak all the way to the finish line. A regular two ship in a dogfight with six.

The team came up with scenarios and possible solutions of escape, with many laughs along the way. Torn came up with a wild situation and resolution that ended in '86 firing rockets on Kleiver who lost control to shoot out Razer's tires to strike '86, leaving Jak unscathed among the fireball of car parts and smoke. The image made everyone laugh with Torn unmoved. He had seen something like that happen before in the resistance. Ashelin nudged Torn in the ribs but he assured her he was serious.

Rayn was enjoying herself. She was only sorry that this sort of bonding had not happened from the beginning and she was secretly thrilled to be a part of it. She was content in the company of the racers, laughing and inventing stories, feeling very much a part of a team.

Somehow the topic of conversation steered to racing goggles and Rayn decided she had gotten all the tactical planning out of her racers she could for the day and dismissed them. But to her surprise, everyone remained seated and resumed the conversation immediately.

Rayn went about inputting all of the information they had come up with into a digital notepad she had retrieved from one cabinet, smiling from time to time as her racers cracked wise jokes.

She quietly excused herself when she was finished and walked through the mobile lodge until she found Sig coming up the stairs to the garage.

"Is Keira downstairs?" she asked, glancing hesitantly past Sig and down the steps. Sig seemed to understand her motives and stepped aside for Rayn.

"She's ready for you." Was all he said before moving off. Rayn watched him in puzzlement before she looked back into the stairwell. Taking a deep breath, she descended.

* * *

Keira was running through her regular checklist for vehicle inspection: coolant leaks, frayed belts, spark plug wires, valve covers, fluid levels, battery corrosion. Their combat vehicles took quite a beating on the tracks on a regular basis and Keira was always kept busy. Jak seemed to make it a habit to melt belts every other race, but Keira was not tuning his vehicle. She was inspecting the Firebat.

Sig had shared a long talk with Keira about Rayn.

At first, Keira wouldn't have any of it, but Sig, who had a long standing relationship with the crime boss' daughter, told Keira that Rayn had her own share of hardships to endure. The mechanic gravely doubted it, but Sig continued on, uninterrupted.

Rayn had lost her mother at the tender age of five. She grew up away from her father, but when she was home all she wanted was to spend time with Krew—and Krew was hardly around for her. She was second fiddle to the family business. She didn't get to choose her career, her father expected her to take over after him.

And Sig, again from personal experience, vouched that Rayn was sweeter than sugar if Keira would only give her a chance.

Keira did not tell Sig that during her time in Haven City, she had heard rumors about Krew's daughter at the racing stadium and from Erol, who was also acquainted with the young woman. Erol had said Rayn looked little like her father, quite the contrary; she was very easy on the eyes. She dressed professionally, was engaging, and had a head for business. A person descendant from Krew who was actually agreeable to be around? And women were rarely involved in business endeavors. So when Keira had gotten the invitation from Krew's successor to attend a will reading, she was curious and even a little excited to finally meet the prodigious daughter face to face.

Then she and her friends had been poisoned and everyone was instantly against Rayn…except for Jak. Under the guise of appreciation, the two forged a friendship that Rayn had clung to, even though Keira felt Jak's trust misplaced. He gave her his trust as a crutch for his guilt.

And that's why Keira hated Rayn.

But she didn't tell Sig any of that.

Sig reminded Keira that Rayn had been at the will reading and was poisoned with the rest of them and if nothing else, to try being a bit more pleasant with the girl.

Keira thought it over above the hood of Jak's Road Blade.

She and Jak had had their moments alone—and more recently as Rayn stepped out more often with the season coming to its close. And Keira wanted their team to win the championship, perhaps, as much as Rayn did.

So Keira had moved to work on Rayn's combat vehicle.

Keira was struggling to lift a belt to check for wear as she reached blindly for the flashlight that was by her ankle. Her fingertips brushed the device, just out of reach.

The flashlight suddenly jumped obediently into her hand.

Startled, Keira glanced back to see a timidly smiling Rayn, holding the far end of the flashlight. Keira took the appliance with a mumble of thanks and went right back to work. Rayn very lightly cleared her throat behind Keira.

"How's she look?"

"Pretty good shape." Keira admitted truthfully. There was a pause.

"I really do appreciate all the work you've done this season. You're a superb mechanic. I don't know where we would be without your talents."

"Jak's done all the work. I just clean up his messes." Keira said flatly.

"He's lucky to have you."

Keira's fingers froze over the belt. She blinked and stood up slowly, turning to face the other woman. Rayn met the green gaze unblinking. They stood staring at each other for what felt like an eternity when Rayn suddenly tossed a dismissive hand over the Firebat and walked to the base of the stairs.

"Don't work on my car." Rayn pressed a series of buttons on the panel that brought the cars up from the lot below and a grinding whir of moving mechanical parts. The crime lord's daughter walked back around the checker-edged circle as the cover plating parted to reveal a purple and green vehicle. Rayn looked back at Keira. "Work on yours."

Keira stood frozen over the Firebat as she looked at the Dragonfly; a vehicle she had not touched since she had had it painted her preferred colors. It stood silently by, a modest, small combat car built for speed.

Keira looked back at Rayn to see that the latter was still watching her with faint hesitation.

"Look, back there," Rayn began uncomfortably, "I hadn't meant the proposal that we trade places to sound like charity. It wasn't. You've expressed your desire to race all season and I believe you've done more than enough to deserve it." Her voice dropped. "And Jak needs you out there. More than he knows."

Much of the loathing for Rayn evaporated in Keira.

"I can't race." Keira shrugged and shook her head helplessly, her eyes straying over the Firebat but not seeing the parts within.

"What's stopping you?" Rayn asked earnestly, her eyebrows rose over her eyes. "Your father? I can't tell you how many times I've gone against my father's wishes for something I felt important." Rayn smiled as she remembered some devious memory. "He'll forgive you, they always do."

"Well, it's that…and Jak." Keira rubbed at her arm, gazing uncertainly at the Road Blade. Rayn had transformed from a polite, suggesting person to an unyielding pillar of strength. It was daunting.

"They didn't tell you?" Rayn had snared Keira's attention again as her green eyes moved up to meet amber ones. "I registered myself to race without their knowing and Jak was furious when I told them I had. He was afraid I'd get hurt. I proved him wrong and so will you."

Rayn picked up a digital notepad off a table laden with tools and handed it to Keira, who took it numbly.

"We drew up tactics for the last race with the Firebat, but the Dragonfly is built to the same size and acceleration standards and what's more, your car has better armor plating than mine."

Keira glanced at the Kras standard body kit on the Dragonfly and was about to argue that she had not installed any new parts to it since the day she got it (much less armor), when something struck her.

"You planned this." Keira accused. Rayn's expression did not change but something altered in the older woman's eyes. "You planned the strategy with my car in mind. Even after I stormed out on you." Keira's eyes narrowed as Rayn's plans lay bare before her. "You were expecting me to race."

"Everyone believes I am. I believe you're better suited."

Rayn handed Keira a credit card. The card was issued from a bank Keira was not familiar with and it was embellished with storm clouds over a city skyline. "Rayn Krew" was clearly printed below the sixteen digits.

"Buy the best parts you can find. Upgrade to all the latest armor plating and weapons cages on the market and express order; never mind the expense." Rayn's amber gaze was burning on Keira. "Your life is in that car. Yours and Jak's. Study the tactics we've devised and make that Dragonfly purr. I expect you to place right after Jak every race. Hop to it, you only have three days." And Rayn made to leave. Keira glanced between the strategy pad and the money card before shouting after Rayn. The older woman paused and turned back to Keira, who motioned with the digital pad and card.

"Why?"

Rayn stood up a little straighter. Her gaze flickered once between the Dragonfly and the younger woman.

"Jak needs you on those tracks, not me. He's a very talented driver and I've been surprised more than once at the incredible wins he's snatched from imminent defeat, but Jak has never gone it alone. And Mizo's racers will destroy him.

"There has to be a perfect harmony between the two racers we've been slotted." The sapphire-haired woman approached the other and placed her hands on Keira's shoulders. "He needs you. Only you. Because I know you will protect him; with your life if it comes to it." Rayn's smile had a slight strained quality about it, but Keira did not catch the tell as Rayn charged on. "It's four against two and Razer will be hunting for him. What you and Jak share is stronger than any machine fire. So," Rayn gave her a small encouraging smile, "race with him. Win."

Keira nodded and Rayn returned it. The older woman made to go up the stairs but paused when Keira hailed her.

"Hey, you disobeyed your Dad a lot? You must have made him furious."

Rayn's smile broadened as she came back down the steps as Keira motioned for her to follow.

"Oh, you haven't the foggiest. Once, I actually jumped into a racer's car after an illegal race, just to spite him."

"You did not!"

Leaning back against the wall beside the steps upstairs, Sig smiled before moving off to join Jak for a drink.

* * *

"Any mail, Gerard?"

Rayn had returned home for the last evening before the big race, wanting to stay with her team but unwilling to make the mobile garage such a prime target for Mizo. After his last farewell escort, she wouldn't invite him to recreate a second, more perilous send-off. Her excuse to leave had been business coupled with frayed nerves and everyone was too preoccupied with the coming race to pay her much mind. Jak seemed prepared to argue, all too ready to go over tactics again, but Rayn deflected his concerns with "last minute business matters to attend—" and was relieved when Keira swooped in to occupy Jak's final race jitters. Mumbles and grunts of half acknowledgements followed Rayn out the door. Her racers would be fine with increased security and the security around her home was much tighter than the garage. It was for the best.

Rayn shed several items onto the marble table in the foyer as her butler came to her with a sealed package that was thicker than a stack of encyclopedias.

"What is this?" she asked, surprised as the weight was deposited into her arms. Gerard's arms free, he moved to tidy the mess Rayn had just made.

"Records. A complete a history as possible to retrieve on one Gustav Rasierklingen. Razer."

A sudden jolt lanced through Rayn's heart. She drew her fingertips lightly across the inconspicuous brown package. Razer's history in her arms. She wasn't sure whether to be excited or frightened by the contents contained within. Glancing up at Gerard (who was scrutinizing her with that forewarning stare), Rayn let her tracing fingers clasp the far side of the package to her bosom.

"It's about time. I put orders out for this information months ago and all I've been getting are frustrating trickles here and there. I suppose I'm in for a long evening. Gerard…would you—"

"The pot's already on." Gerard said walking back to the kitchen with an unresolved step as Rayn's smile followed him. "I'll bring a platter to your room shortly."

With her butler out of sight, Rayn hurried up the stairs, sliding her fingernails under the folds of the paper seal as she went. Loose papers inside were slipping from their manila folders and Rayn clapped her hand over the opening she had made in a voluntary movement to wait a moment longer lest the contents spill all over the staircase.

Springing with the energy of a hysterical preteen onto her king sized canopy bed, Rayn ripped with vigor into the brown paper casing. Her eyes hungrily running over the layers of manila folders, books, and folders containing records, photos attached to articles, alongside a slew of accounts, details and testimonies.

Her agents had done well.

Rayn rifled through the folders in a systematic search for Razer's criminal record. She found it.

A list of felonies longer than her arm unfolded before the woman. Misconducts from pick pocketing to murders were typed one after the other as Rayn's widening amber eyes ran over them. The racer had started a life of crime at the tender age of eight to a horrifying peak in his early twenties. Rayn sucked in a sharp breath as she saw the name Crenshaw tagged with a murder conviction and acquittal. The Crenshaw crime family had been an ally of her father's back in the day and the Crenshaw crime lord had been offed when Rayn was a teenager. The Crenshaws were known for superior ammunitions manufacturing and her family often purchased bullets and shells from them. Their families had been close. Razer had received a discharge from the case, but the Crenshaws were inarguably dead.

Razer's felonies lessened in his late twenties, when Rayn assumed he was a star of the circuit, and resumed again with dabbles in serious offenses a few years later. Attached to the criminal file was a series of other suspected crimes that were not proven nor concretely linked to the racer, but shady evidence alluded they could have been at Razer's hand.

Rayn snapped the file shut. She stared at nothing a moment and reached back into the bottom of the package for a book she had missed before. She opened the leather-bound tome.

It was a yearbook. A yearbook from The Damien Academy for Boys.

Rayn settled back into her many pillows and thumbed through the heavy pages. Looking at the young faces and the school activities transported Rayn back to her own private school days. The clubs, sports, students laughing and lined up in study hall. Rayn tried to stave off her own memories to focus. She finally came to the student pictures and she searched for Gustav Rasierklingen. Rayn's eyes stopped on the image of a young boy. Short, dark hair was slicked back in style with a few tendrils hanging over one eye; high cheekbones, glaring emerald eyes. He wore a dark dress shirt, a solid colored tie, and a small almost boyish smile. The woman was so absorbed in this youthful face that she did not notice as she toyed with a lock of sapphire hair.

Rayn checked the year and did the math backwards. Razer was fifteen years old in the picture.

Razer's criminal record stated he was already established in the underground by that year, but Rayn could not believe the face she looked at was capable of any offense greater than a nicked squeaky toy. The man's eyes, even as a young gentleman, were impossibly green. The nails curling her hair moved to be nibbled on instead.

Rayn started when a knock sounded gently at her door. She snapped the book shut as if police had found her bombing operation headquarters and buried the evidence under Razer's other records.

"Come in!" Rayn cursed to herself when her voice squeaked. Gerard entered carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, teacup, cream, container of sugar, and a small plate of maple scones. He set the silver platter on her marble bedside table and asked if she needed anything else. Rayn answered in the negative and Gerard's furtive gaze stole over the contents of the opened package.

"Anything of interest on the retired champion?" Gerard was good at hiding his disquiet when it suited him, but Rayn was acquainted with her butler's mannerisms and knew he unconsciously pressed one corner of his lips together when he was unhappy. And at the moment it looked as though he had sucked a rather sour lemon.

"He volunteered at a homeless shelter." Rayn offered with a poorly hidden smirk of satisfaction, holding up the document to prove it. Gerard stiffened and now both corners of his lips had been pressed in.

"I see."

And he walked out with that same unsettled manner he had when he had first handed Rayn the parcel.

The woman waited until the door was closed to pop a scone into her mouth and resume her reading.

Rayn guiltily stole over the yearbook once more.

Flipping through in a hunt for autographs from teachers and driving club friends scattered throughout, Rayn was unsurprised at the amount of girls who spilled gibberish-like love speeches, sprawling several pages. She nearly choked on her tea when particularly gushy autograph ended in a long, jagged red line—as though the book had been ripped from the writer's hands. Razer must have been fed up with girls filling his pages with rubbish. The notes from Razer's professors doted on his brilliance and skill on the tracks. Many expected to see his name all over the professional racing circuit.

Rayn stumbled across a familiar name in one autograph.

_Abel Greyson_.

Razer's dear friend and a good racer to boot; the same boy who died in the Damien Massacre.

Rayn flipped quickly through the pages to find the boy's face and she did.

Greyson was not the most handsome Rayn had seen, but he was not unattractive either. He had a simple, forwardness about him that contrasted greatly to the hidden complexity in Razer's picture.

Beside the name was a short note that Rayn read in earnest.

"_Raze, here's hoping for another year of great laughs, perfect races, and even better revisions. (I'm never taking a class with Hendricks again.) Quit the evening work. You know I don't like it. And if you ain't using your girl fans, give them to me. They can't all be _'The Lady'_ you know. Damien our home, now and forever, Abel._"

Rayn's brow furrowed.

She read the signed note again. And once more.

The autograph was laden with inside meanings that Rayn simply could not decipher. Evening work? Rayn bit her lip and reached for the criminal record again. Razer had been committing felonies all that year…he couldn't possibly mean…

And "The Lady?" Who was this girl? The denotation written suggested Razer was quite enamored with this girl but that she was not close by. A secret lover of Razer's? An overseas relationship? A twinge Rayn dared not name twisted her insides, but she could not stop the heat from rising in her cheeks. Whomever it was, Razer had been willing to give up his female fan base solely for her attention? Rayn had never pictured Razer as the sentimental type.

In her frustration, she snapped the yearbook shut only to discover another that had remained hidden to her. She frowned and reached for this book, torn between facing new questions and hope for answers.

The yearbook was for the following year.

Rayn's eyes widened as she flipped through the pages. There were no autographs.

Her brow knitting, she flipped through the book a few times but no handwriting, no matter how miniscule, graced the pages of the yearbook. It was possible this yearbook could have been surplus and Rayn had been fortunate that her agents had actually snatched one that belonged to the champion.

The pages stopped turning as Rayn saw a spread titled:

"The Damien Massacre: A Memorial"

Five young faces framed the pages with names, ages, and birthdates. One picture stood off from the rest.

This sixteen-year-old version of Razer was tired and drawn; many lifetimes older than the picture he had taken only a year before. He was celebrated as the only survivor the massacre.

Rayn read over the small dedication to the deceased boys and her eyes strayed over Razer before she reached for the newspaper clippings reporting the infamous event. Scanning the articles, some writers applauded Rasierklingen's miraculous, even heroic survival while others pitched the boy as a murderer simple and plain. Each article stated that Gustav had been found with his car smashed into a wall and the boy pulled unconscious from the smoldering wreckage with causes ranging from escaped convicts gunning down innocent children to jealous rivals to narcotic use. And more than one article suggested the only survivor was to blame and repentant in attempted suicide.

Rayn dropped back into her pillows, her eyes blank.

She shook the yearbook still opened to the dedication pages free of newspaper stories and settled the book onto her lap; her amber gaze burning on the emerald-eyed boy.

"Did you?" she murmured.

Her tea was well chilled and the hour unreasonably late when Rayn had finished. But putting away the files and turning off the lights did nothing to encourage Rayn's rest, despite the hour. She had read every file, every word twice if not three times over and though many of her uncertainties about the mysterious champion racer had been resolved, some of her most burning questions remained unanswered.

She had read over the Damien massacre news clippings that pitched both for or against the young racer—even the staff had been divided on Razer's possible manslaughter. Then G. T. Blitz, in the days before his sport commentator television show, picked the teenager up half a year later and sponsored him as a racer. According to Rayn's information, Mizo had paid a school rival, Dawson, to seriously injure or kill Abel Greyson. Rayn tried to imagine that day on the track, with Dawson successful, and Razer's reaction…Rayn had no doubt in her mind the young racer had killed them all. He must have been just wild with grief.

And suddenly Rayn was below the overpass with Razer, trying to bait him with information on Greyson and how he had ignored her. She was so sure that would have turned him. But as suddenly as the related memory had come it was reversing to the moment Razer had shoved her back against the wall, his lips on hers to silence her. The memory was as vivid as though it had happened mere hours rather than weeks ago, and her body was burning.

Rayn had a terrible time shaking it off, but she eventually succeeded to shutting out the unprecedented passions for linear thought.

None of the information directed to something deeper between Razer and her mother. And Blitz had nothing in his favor for Razer's undying loyalty than sponsoring the boy for his last years at Damien. All she could discern was that Razer was as frustrating as he was complex, as wicked as he was smart, and that Damien, despite his troubles at the school, was his home.

And had he the chance to return, he would not come back to Kras.

* * *

The day of reckoning came and the team huddled around the championship lineup information. The tracks the races would be held on were the Canyon Run in the morning, the Eastern Tour midday, and the Dethdrome in the evening. It would be a long, hectic day. The racers posted for Krew's team were Jak and Rayn, while the racers lined up for Mizo's team were UR-86, Kleiver, Razer, and…

A confusion settled over them.

Who was the last racer for the opposing team?

It seemed they would not get an answer until the races actually began and the public was already abuzz with the scope of the scandal as the television blared man-on-the-street interviews by G. T. Blitz. Guesses ranged from Edje, a champion Blitz had touted before Razer, and an anti-clone of Jak.

But none of Rayn's team cared for the pre-race announcements as Jak and Rayn descended down the steps to the garage to give their vehicles a final once over before they parked their cars on the starting line.

Jak paused at the bottom step when he saw into the garage.

There were three Road Blades neatly parked in a row. He glanced back questioningly at Rayn when she stopped just behind him. She gave a small shrug and smiled.

"Just in case." She said as she stepped around him and walked to her Firebat.

"In case of what?" Jak said monotonously as Rayn moved to the far side of her combat vehicle.

"Well, you know. It's Razer." She answered with a shrug, standing up straight to speak to him over the roll bars. "But should your vehicle be damaged beyond repair, we're a step ahead."

"If my car gets beat up so bad to need a new one, I'd be dead."

"Well, you know." Rayn shrugged again, helpless to the logic. "It's Razer."

Jak turned back to the three identical Road Blades.

"Yeah." He muttered.

Rayn stooped into the Firebat's interior to pop the hood so she could examine the engine. If anything happened to Keira, Rayn was the first alternate, but running over a brief inspection left Rayn unreasonably pleased at the mechanic's work. Belts were snug, bolts were tight, and fresh oil had been pumped into her car's veins. It was a shame Rayn would not get to race her.

"Hey, Blitz is about to start the pre-race announcements!" Ashelin shouted downstairs. "Get up here!"

Rayn and Jak exchanged restless glances before heading up the stairs, Jak allowing her to go up first. The team gathered around the television.

G. T. Blitz's familiar broadcast intro struck up with its upbeat theme and seizure causing lights as cars raced by and exploded in quick succession, before the reporter himself appeared on the screen, grinning and bright in the morning sunshine.

"Welcome everyone to the final race of the season! The winner here will take all the marbles and virtually run Kras City when it's all over and the loser—wait! This just in: There's been a late entry for the Mizo team." Jak and Ashelin exchanged glances as Rayn stared up at the screen. This new compatriot of Mizo's could complicate things. Who the devil would allow such a late entry? _Who_ was racing? "Sources say this mysterious wheel jockey is one of the best drivers in the world! So stay tuned for all the death and destruction."

Blitz's announcements ran into a prerecorded pan of the upcoming race tracks for the final races as a hologram of Krew appeared over the table computer grid at the center of the room. Rayn smothered a smile for her father. He would have been so proud that she had gotten so far. The trophy and parameters of the bet were almost in her hands.

"Well, it's the final race, eh? It all comes down to this. I just hope I didn't miscalculate the poison's potency, heh heh." Rayn had to stuff a chortle for her father. His humor always had a dark twist to it. The threat and tantrum that followed was all wonderfully acted for Rayn's behalf. "Win quickly and save yourselves. I want that trophy!"

Daxter had dragged himself to see over the table as he leaned his small Ottsel body unsteadily against it. He was looking rather peaky and his sad ears were drooping to boot.

"I don't feel too good." He said.

"Me either." Ashelin agreed, a rare twinge of anxiety lacing her voice. Rayn was surprised when Jak suddenly turned on her with an accusing finger.

"Your father's agent better have those antidotes waiting at the finish line."

Rayn bit her lip, unusually hurt at the harsh reprimand. Sweet Jak, the racer she had grown closest to snapping at her made her feel wrong way up. She had already made up her mind to give her racers the antidotes, win or lose. He was just concerned for his friends' welfare, she told herself. _Mine too?_ A small voice spoke up in the back of her mind that she quelled before it would betray her. Sig was quick to take the pressure off Rayn.

"I've got your back, Jak." He said as the fiery red head laid an arm on his.

"And I've got yours." She said.

The warmth was restoring itself around the room and Rayn let herself be swept up into it just as a voice spoke up from the base of the table.

"Hey!" Daxter shouted. "Who's got mine?"

"I do."

The team spun to see Keira at the top of the steps to the common room. Keira caught Rayn's eye and the two women grinned at each other as Samos' and Jak's mouths dropped.

"Keira?"

"Keira!" Samos interjected with a wave of his fists as Keira turned to him with her arms folded and a stern glare set in place. "You're not going to race!"

"Daddy, I'm racing." Keira's voice left no room for argument. "And that's final." She descended the steps to stand between Torn and Rayn as Samos muttered something about stubborn children taking after the mother's side of the family. Keira and Rayn were smiling at each other again as Jak looked between them; beginning to grasp a friendship had somehow formed between the women.

"Let's do this." Torn said, stretching his hand out to the circle. Everyone readily joined him.

"All for one."

"And one right in the groin."

"Let's make Mizo pay."

* * *

Razer surveyed the Canyon Run with a jaded emerald gaze.

Smoking a cigarette on the sidelines, he made for poor conversational company as both UR-86 and Kleiver had abandoned him for their own vehicles and left him to his thoughts.

There had still been no word on the confirmation of Greyson's death by Mizo's hand. Razer had kept his cellular phone by him day and night and Crutch had not reported. They had a half hour until the countdown began and Razer was about to become very busy in five. Heads were going to roll.

In the meantime, Razer sucked nicotine into his lungs and waited. And watched.

The stands were already full of mulling heads and torsos standing by for the race to start. The only thing keeping the pandemonium in check was the lull of blaring televisions playing up the drama of the event. Most of Mizo's cars had already been placed on the line for the standing start and Razer's pit crew was running through the last of the racing setup procedures on his Havoc; sway bars, tire pressure, wheel cambers, height, and toes in, making sure to align the center of gravity. A similar precision process was in progress for Kleiver's Road Hog and '86's Anvil RTX.

That was three cars on the line.

Rayn and her golden boy had yet to show up and he was feeling restless. Taunting Jak had become a more favorite pastime for the champion and he had no outlet with the blond absent. The boy would die today and it was a shame. Razer dragged on his smoke. Jak had talent and a certain flair all his own—he was a star in his own right. But the evening star wasn't ready to set for the coming morning just yet.

And then the crime lord's daughter was racing again. He would have enjoyed another verbal spar with Rayn, now that she had proved herself capable, but Mizo would be over his shoulder. Judging. Though the boss had not shown up yet either, Razer could still feel the man's eyes all around him, looking for any excuse to make good on his threat.

Razer felt ruffled that Mizo would be intruding on his territory; the tracks were more his than anyone else's. He had learned them, tamed them, knew their every twist and turn by heart. They had had some good times when Mizo had mentored Razer, fine-tuning skills and nurturing ability, but now he had grown and his mentor had abandoned the arena for broadcasting fame. The racing circuits belonged to Razer and he was unwilling to allow a man who had forsaken the wheel back onto the field.

Besides that, it was a slap in the face to Razer's skill. Having Mizo descend back to the tracks was the interfering parent that upset the referee's and consequently, the game. Confidence and reliance in the racers had been relinquished the moment the crime lord announced his intention to race.

Razer had already sworn vengeance on Jak. If Mizo got in his way…

"First of three historical, landmark races, eh? Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day."

Blitz had appeared beside Razer, just having finished his last broadcast before turning anchor command over to the colorful, beak-flapping primate parrot Pecker. He clapped a hand on the champion's shoulder, who almost lost his cigarette to the blow.

"Excited? Nervous? Angry?" Blitz said cheerfully as Razer picked the skewed smoke from his mouth.

"I'm ready." He said calmly and tapped the ashes off his cigarette.

"Ready to give Jak Hell, huh? That's my boy." the reporter laughed and gave Razer another pat before crossing his arms and leaning back into the guard rail. "Just remember, we all want to get our piece of Jak before you blast him from existence."

Blitz did not see Razer's green eyes flash.

"Jak is mine." The champion said lowly and Blitz's friendly banter suddenly had an edge to it.

"Now now, don't be so selfish, Razer. After all, I am giving you Rayn to play with on those tracks. Do rough her up this time; you were much too easy on her last race you two shared. What's more, you have a score to settle with her." Blitz's indigo eyes slid over to the raven-haired man, but the racer did not rise to the bait. He shrugged it off and glanced at his watch. "Speaking of Rayn—the Krew team is late. I thought they would beat me here. Women. Have to gussy up even for the races. Well, I suppose you should look good when the camera captures your demise on the big screen."

Blitz was imagining the spectacular explosions with a wide grin as Razer dropped his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on its flaming end. Both men looked to the left as Krew's mobile garage rolled into view. There was a great hissing and releasing of bolted doors as a ramp dropped to the ground. Two combat cars rolled onto the track.

The men's faces fell as Jak's Road Blade and a foreign Dragonfly drove by.

Blitz's head snapped around to face Razer, an ugly snarl pressed into the corner of his mouth. Razer's gaze had followed the Dragonfly with an open mouth.

"That…is not a Firebat." Blitz spoke with a sweet, deadly venom as Razer looked back at him.

"When I spoke to her, she was _racing_." He replied with an equal contained ferocity. "How could I have known they would make a last minute replacement?"

Blitz's eyes were scouring the purple and green vehicle.

"Those plates and body kit are top of the line for that model. The rear fenders, I happen to know for a fact, came out only two weeks ago."

"She was racing." Razer repeated definitely, his expression fierce.

"Of course she was, my boy. Of course she was." Blitz clasped his hands behind his back and began to make his way over to his own Road Blade. Razer's dark eyebrows dropped over his eyes.

"This changes nothing. Leave Jak to me. You will have your trophy."

Blitz paused and looked to his left.

"For your sake, I hope so. Let's exchange pleasantries."

Razer obediently followed Mizo when the man signaled, but the racer's green eyes drew back to the mobile garage that housed a green Firebat.

* * *

Rayn had gone to accompany Jak and Keira to the circuit, her curiosity of the mystery driver consuming her as the rest of the team set up the last computer terminals and bolts of the mobile launch pad—the team's personal real time race status and communications system. Jak and Keira had returned to aid in the last of the construction and share words of luck and best wishes. Now the three of them walked back to the line.

Most of the cars had already been placed on the starting line and Rayn's gaze lingered on the red and black Havoc V12 occupying the leading right position on the track. The space at center remained empty. The woman was burning to know who would take that space.

Rayn noticed the rift grow between Jak and Keira as they headed to their vehicles. Jak did not want Keira to race. Rayn silently tut-tutted the familiar unease that blasted from the blond in waves as his desire to protect warred with his compliance to allow girls into the fray.

So when the two drivers split to go to their respectful vehicles, Rayn followed Jak.

He had already squatted down to inspect his tires when she drew up.

"I don't remember the Dragonfly being up to date three days ago." Jak ground out without facing Rayn as she uncomfortably shifted her weight.

"I will take the blame for that." She laughed softly, but Jak did not join her. She cleared her throat. "You need her out here."

Jak stood at once to face Rayn who did not flinch at his righteous fury.

"I need her behind the crash barrier." Jak said with just enough strength to be intimidating, but not so loud that Keira would hear him one car over. "She'll get hurt out here!"

"Jak, you're making the same mistake." Rayn chastised, folding her arms over her chest. "She is going to unleash a world of hurt on those boys and that's just the sort of force you need backing you."

"Mizo's boys will be hounding her and she makes for an easy target. She'll need protection."

"No, Jak." Rayn's amber eyes glittered in the morning sunlight. "Mizo's boys will need protecting from her."

Keira had come up on Jak's right, glancing between him and the crime lord's daughter with a wary eye. Rayn gave Keira a warm smile before she straightened to her full height.

"Good luck, Jak. And Keira, Razer likes to box rivals in on the left—don't give him that chance."

The two women nodded affirmation to each other and Rayn was pleased to see Keira grow more determined with each passing second. She had turned to leave just as a hot purple and orange Road Blade snorted up to the starting line. The three racers looked at each other with raised eyebrows for the wildly unusual colors on the combat car.

"Blech. Who would paint their car those colors?" Keira snorted.

"Who would race in that thing?" Jak nodded agreement, but Rayn was scrutinizing the car.

"Those colors. The-they're familiar somehow." She muttered to her companions.

Purple and orange…who on earth would—

Rayn inhaled sharply.

"Oh no. Dear God, no. No."

"She's a beaut, ain't she?" An overly friendly, recognizable voice rang across the dirt track as G.T. Blitz came strutting up to Rayn and her racers. "Five point seven liter, twelve cylinder engine, aluminum suspension and strut bars, staged turbocharge," he looked back at his bright vehicle and sighed adoringly, "she's my baby. A sport tuned hell raiser bent on destruction. Make you run for your money, eh Jak?"

The Krew team stood speechless at the long-winded greeting. Rayn's amber gaze was blazing when she looked over the reporter's shoulder to see Razer glaring back at her. The harshness receded minutely in Rayn's gaze, but the champion's green eyes were violent as a black storm raged behind them.

"So I guess there was a mix up in the information boards this morning? Rayn, I'm surprised you're taking the easy way out this race. Last minute change? You're still in your racing gear." Jak had come to stand beside Rayn, his arms folded and she wished he hadn't. Blitz was grinning as his indigo eyes flickered between them, smug at her need for secondary defense in their undercover crime lord game. Rayn could feel her face burning. "And Razer had been so excited to deal you the same humiliating blow you did him." Rayn glanced back at the raven-haired racer whose black gaze had focused on the commentator with unabashed malice. The champion pushed past the reporter and strode directly up to Jak. Both men seemed to puff up in size as they glared each other down.

"Ready to die boy?" Razer gnashed out, his sharp canines flashing. "You'll regret ever having raced me."

"Likewise." Jak spat back just as Rayn and Keira joined Jak on both sides. Razer spared neither the grace of his gaze. Rayn's eyes burned into Razer's, but the champion seemed interested only in affronting Jak.

The stare down lasted several moments before Blitz, unused to not being the center of attention, thrust back into the exchange.

Blitz drew a long breath through his nose which drew all attention back to himself. Razer took that as his cue to stalk off to his car. Rayn's eyes followed the racer until she discovered Blitz was watching her. His smile cracked a grin once more as she tried to melt the man with her eyes—to no avail. "Fifteen till and only racers should be on the track. I don't believe you belong here, Ms. Krew." The man said with all chivalry, but there was a sharpness to his tone that suggested otherwise. "Why don't you wait at the end of the finish line like a good little girl?"

Rayn ignored his last comment to turn back to Jak and Keira.

"Annihilate him." She muttered wickedly to the chuckles and murmurs of her racer's agreement, before she strode off to the launch pad to join the others.

She and Blitz, Mizo, caught gazes for an instant in time and the air was electrified with the slings of hungry challenges before Mizo nodded to her once and swagger off to his car.

Rayn cast a final sidelong glance at Razer who had already reached his Havoc and made himself busy snapping at the pit crew to check gauges himself. Rayn had never seen him so riled. It would appear Blitz was infringing on more than just the tracks.

The woman blinked and made her way over to the communications pad to witness the first race to the final grand prix with the rest of her team. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

The race of the century.

The race that would decide her fate.

* * *

**Author's Note: AGAIN this thing ran away with me. I dunno how I keep coming up with these 10k word monsters...Oh, I know what it is. I totally keep forgetting to add that dang cutscene before the final prix. I've done it almost twice now. XD Would have skipped right over it and then torn out my hair for forgetting any scene leading to this climax. But seriously, the race IS the next chapter!! I gotta finish this thing! All me other stories are bein' neglected.**

**Renjiluvah--you've got me all self-conscious! There really is no action in this chapter and I'm smacking my forehead for it. I'm glad you pointed it out though, it was a very good piece of advice. It will change how I write. You make me better! :hugs: But yes! I apologize to all for another chapter of building to that climax. It's going to be wild! Whee! I'll just have to pass out another month to write another monster chapter. X_X**

**Rayn was so much easier to write this chapter than last. I'm loving Blitz as he gets more sentimental and I'm sooo missing Razer! He's still a good center of my attention and he is still vital to this story, so RaynxRazer fans, never fear! And hey, plus to all Keira fans since she finally got to race, eh? I like her too, but she drives me crazy in the game. She's always blowing me up in exhibition. But I usually race as Rayn when she does. Hmm. Go figure.**

**For all of you who are going loco over these long-winded chapters waiting for the action, let me evilly beguile--cough--whet your appetite. In the near future, Rayn steals Razer's Havoc. WTH!?**

**Read and review my loverly readers! **

**Blackfire 18**


	16. The Yellow Eco Cup

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 16: The Yellow Eco Cup**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within, they are property of Naughty Dog; etc.**

Rayn stood over the radio feeling torn.

She had wanted Keira to race—the girl had waited her turn and, at the end of it all, Rayn had quietly wanted to befriend the mechanic before this last of desperate races to the finish. These people formed her team after all and the only way they would win this megilla was if they were a single unit. One mind, one body, one heart.

But as the six engines rumbled on the starting line with Keira fresh from the garage in their ranks…she felt like she had sent the girl to an early death. Jak would kill her if Keira suffered anything more than a bruise!

Now Rayn's stomach was churning into painful knots.

Oh how she wished she was on that track instead of the green-haired girl. It would have been better if she had just refused Keira. There had always been three of them to these cup events—only having two was outrageous, but Jak was the only outstanding jockey with the point totals to carry a second driver this time. And Rayn had never seen the mechanic actually race. What if she froze up? What if she lost control? What if her weapons system went offline? Had Keira been the right choice? Rayn could have distracted Razer and shove Blitz off the track and let Jak slip past them all to the checkered line. Maybe they would false start? Maybe she could abort the race? Sig should be out there. Torn should be out there. She should be out there! If Keira died, it would be all her fault!

Rayn jumped sharply when something hard knocked her forearm. She spun to see Sig standing beside her.

"Remember to breathe."

Rayn was embarrassed to find herself panting, breathless. Sig gave a meaningful glance to Rayn's tightly clasped hands. She moved them to rest behind her back. Rayn tried to play off the anxiety but Sig just smiled reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry, Rayn," he said quietly, "Keira's got Jak's back."

Rayn looked back out to the track as the banner began to count down. She bit her lower lip.

_But who has hers?_

* * *

Jak had to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder at Keira.

He had offered to help her with a routine check on the vehicle, glancing up every so often to watch Razer's semi-repressed frustration as the ex-champion looked over his back tires. At one point, Razer's hard green eyes shot up and locked with Jak, as though to say he knew the blonde-haired man was watching him and this was his final warning to mind his own or lose fingers. Keira was quick to shoo Jak away an instant later as he appeared too distracted to properly secure the missiles in her weapon's rack. Daxter handed a wrench back to Keira with a wish of luck and sprinted after Jak, jumping on his shoulder. Jak barely noticed him there.

Jak gazed worriedly at Keira as he returned to his car and shot one last scathing glance at Razer that the man was too busy to receive.

Now Jak sat in his car as engines roared around him. The lights on the banner never changed. Was the countdown ever going to begin? He didn't want it to.

First Rayn risking her life on the tracks and now Keira.

These girls were stressing him out.

Daxter cuffed Jak's head and shouted over the roar.

"Focus!"

Jak shook his head in response, clearing it, and looked instead over at the two vehicles on his immediate right. Both G.T. Blitz and Razer were looking at him. The television anchor's hideous purple and orange painted monstrosity was an insult to the respectable Road Blade. Its horrible shine made it hard to discern the vehicles' owner in the driver's seat, but Jak finally spotted him. Blitz gave Jak a false toothy grin and a mock salute to match.

While a familiar vehicle just beyond the reporter revved ominously over all the others. Razer's jet black hair peeked just around Blitz's slicked back hair and the racer grinned horribly at Jak. He glanced back toward Keira who sat just behind him and made a gesture that racers understood among each other. _She's dead meat_.

Jak's scowl made Blitz open his mouth to laugh and Razer simper; a promise of destruction in his emerald eyes. Jak snapped his goggles down over his eyes and gripped at his steering wheel. His teeth grinding against each other; the countdown finally began.

He tried to push everything from his mind, but Keira kept sneaking in; he kept seeing her Dragonfly careening over his head as a fireball of twisted metal and smoke. The last second efficiently stalled these thoughts and Jak shot off; matched perfectly by Blitz…and Razer in the lead.

Jak saw Blitz's ugly vehicle turning toward him for a nasty right fender impact. Jak frowned and hit the brakes, expertly dodging the attack to cut behind Blitz and snatch second place from him. Meanwhile, Razer, who had occupied the choice spot in the lineup, wasted no time putting distance between himself and the next pacer. Jak watched the Havoc V12 kicking up dust into the tunnel ahead and hesitated to lay on the turbo so soon into the race. They had barely gone into the second turn!

Jak glanced into the single mirror he had rigged to a roll bar to check Keira's progress. The boys behind him had roughed her up a bit and she had fallen back to last place, but no real damage. His sigh of relief became a yelp of surprise.

Blitz had knocked his front fender into Jak's rear fender. The two Road Blades squealed against each other. Jak was slowly beginning to turn in the wrong direction to enter the tunnel. Blitz was grinning wickedly at him.

"Get the Hell away from me!" Jak yelled over the wind.

Jak whipped the wheel to right his vehicle, Daxter scrabbling to hang on, as the two men entered the tunnel together with UR-86 and Kleiver at their heels.

God! Hardly into the third turn and Blitz was hassling him! The sports commentator was supposedly one of the best drivers that had ever lived—but to Jak, his methods were immature and unrefined. The man was more a nuisance than a competitor. Jak hugged into the next turn, dangerously close to the cave wall, but it gave him a small lead on Blitz and he was looking forward for Razer.

But Razer was out of sight.

Jak had only an instant to acknowledge Razer's heady lead before a hailstorm of bullets chewed up the back end of his car.

The young man exhaled a stream of curse words and jammed his thumb into a turbo charge; hating the pressure behind him for forcing him to it, but glad to be out of the fray. His thoughts strayed momentarily to Keira before missiles were whistling after him and his instrument panel screamed and flashed at him in warning.

Jak broke the lock the missiles had on him by power turning the next hairpin turn so that the projectiles hit canyon wall and he preserved precious chaff. He had three enemies to fend off and a single one to beat. Of course, the one to beat had a dizzying head start to close.

The first lap seemed to trudge along as Jak tried to keep his small lead on the three behind him. He had deflected seven missile volleys in near succession with a mixture of chaff and exact steering, but he was tiring of the selective attention of his enemies. The race was beginning to wear on him—and there were still two more that day. Jak's thoughts went out to Keira once more as he neared the second lap, but she had long since disappeared from sight. He wasn't sure what worried him more, her safety in the back, or her complete absence? Either seemed terrifying.

Blitz had sped up to Jak's tail again, an insistent gnat buzzing around Jak's head. He was beginning to lose patience with the pest as he tried again to spin Jak's Road Blade.

Jak dropped a mine.

An instant after Jak depressed the button to unload the defensive weapon did it explode. Daxter was whooping over the roar of the wind as a roll of heat blasted over him and Jak glanced at his mirror.

Pieces of purple and orange were flying in directions and Jak barely had time to laugh before dodging another mine that appeared before him. He lost traction for a moment then had to rip the wheel the other way to dodge another mine.

Razer was leaving all sorts of gifts in his wake.

But now that Blitz was finally off his tail, Jak opened throttle and punched another turbo, determined to close the distance to Razer. UR-86 used the last of his turbo to storm Jak with gunfire, but Jak swerved until the mechanical menace ran out of bullets. UR-86 may have had superior acceleration, but Jak had more turbo, and the blonde racer was ripping away from the opposing red and white vehicle.

Jak grit his teeth and searched for Razer, finally, spotting the champion ahead. He was still a good ways off, but Jak still had half a canister of turbo to push past. Suddenly a sound assaulted Jak's ears. It was a Road Blade. But not his Road Blade.

He looked into his mirror to see a damaged purple and orange streak bearing down on him.

"No way!" Jak shouted and, heart racing, punched his turbo.

Blitz wasn't finished with this race and he was near enough to Jak that the younger man could see the reporter's furious expression. Apparently, he was done screwing around and he was going to give Jak a lesson in racing etiquette.

Bullets hailed down on Jak again, but Jak had a final ace in defenses.

A smoke screen billowed out of the red and white Road Blade, directly into Blitz's path. The vehicle disappeared in Jak's mirror and he punched his turbo again; uncaring where Blitz ended up on the other end of that cloud.

Jak was finally catching up to Razer in the final sprint.

Razer had used all of his turbo ages ago and was now relying on his engine, while Jak still had turbo to close their gap.

The final straightaway reared up ahead of the two racers and Jak raced to catch up, his heart pounding wildly, but slowly sinking. Razer released two volleys of missiles that, having no targets, fired off in whichever direction. It was a display of unused weapons to flaunt his skill at an easy win and amuse the audience.

The crowds roared as Razer crossed the line several car lengths ahead of Jak.

Jak finished second, with Blitz following not long after. Then '86, Kleiver and Keira bringing up the rear. Jak leapt out of his car to meet Keira, uncaring that the press had swarmed Razer touting his loss in the Blue Eco Cup as a fluke-of-the-universe. Jak's eyes wildly searched the Dragonfly for damage. Everything appeared to be in order, minus a missing fender. He helped Keira out; his heart pounding when she accepted his hand.

"Kleiver gave me a bashing, but I'm fine, Jak." She stated dismissively before she looked sharply around for the scoreboard. "What did you place?"

"Second." Jak supplied. "Razer had a lead on me."

Keira huffed angrily.

"I should have been up there helping you."

"Yeah." Jak exhaled, not to agree with her sentiment, but that she had come out of the race alive. He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him, sorry for having fallen behind, but Jak's tender smile teased her own out of hiding as Rayn, Sig, and Torn rushed up to meet them.

"Brilliantly done, Jak. Skillful driving, Keira, way to give Kleiver Hell." Rayn congratulated, sounding as elated as Jak had just a moment ago.

"What was up Blitz's butt? He wouldn't leave you alone." Sig glared toward the winner circle where Razer and Blitz were swamped with reporters.

"I think he'll play harder next time." Jak said darkly.

"Did you hear us warn you about the mines, Jak?" Torn ground out.

Jak's eyes screwed up.

"No, I didn't hear anything. The radio must be down."

"We were all shouting like mad when we saw him do it. Bloody Razer, dropping mines left and right. That daft bilge pump not even staying for the fight. Coward." Rayn ranted as Sig clapped Jak on the shoulder.

"Good run, man. You got this in the bag."

"Then that bloody awful display at the end. Cocky, arrogant…"

"I won't let Razer get that far ahead of me again." Jak said, also looking to the winner's circle. His eyes narrowed.

* * *

Razer was looking down the line where Rayn's team had assembled.

The female grease monkey was inspecting her thrashed vehicle, the Wastelander was standing with his arms crossed as usual, Jak was shaking his head, and Rayn was stomping and throwing her hands in the air. A small smile crept into the corner of Razer's mouth.

Blitz clapped a hand so hard at Razer's back that the champion was winded. He coughed to muffle the grunt of surprise and inhaled to get his wind back; immediately sobered.

"Way to win one for the team!" Blitz shouted boisterously so that every reporter in a ten mile radius would hear. "You make an old, but not that old, racing commentator proud. Let's get a drink for our victory, eh?"

The two began to walk off, UR-86 and Kleiver following.

Razer was surprised Blitz would have left the circle so soon when there was so much schmoozing to be had. The crime lord swung an arm around Razer's shoulders lowered his voice.

"But really Razer, great run. You just keep ahead of the pack, score those points, and leave Jak to us." He made a fist. "I'm going to kill that boy before the day's out."

Razer was fishing for his cigarettes.

"I. Am going to kill him." Razer said flatly, lighting up. He tossed a meaningful glance over his shoulder to the trailing '86 and stocky, loin clothed Wastelander. "And again, I will destroy any who get in my way."

Blitz gave Razer a sharp rock, meant in camaraderie, but Razer knew it to be a warning.

"Oh, loosen up Razer. We all have a bone to pick with the boy. Share and share alike. Speaking of which—I would deem it appropriate that the next time you set out mines, do inform the rest of us so we know to look out for them, hmm?"

* * *

A brief tactical plan had been drawn up after gathering the information from the last race. Everyone screamed with laughter when Jak's mine caught Blitz's mud flap and spun him into the air. Rayn felt her stomach twist in pleasure for her rival's nasty spill and a spike of affection shoot through her heart for Jak. The boy truly was brilliant. It was a miracle the reporter had kept going; a lucky break that the team determined not to give him again. Jak inspected his torn up Road Blade and thanked Rayn for the foresight of having replacement vehicles ready, which she shyly acknowledged.

"Razer." They said together and laughed.

Rayn was trying to call back some of those contented feelings as the racers lined up for the second race of the day. Only dread seemed to fuel her once more.

She was nibbling her lower lip when Sig brushed her arm again.

"Breathe." He reminded her.

"Right." Rayn giggled breathlessly. All this waiting on the sidelines was too stressful. And this track, the Eastern Tour, while beautiful was an absolute menace. The terrain went from scrabbling dirt, to traction-less pavement, to slick and slimy sewer tunnels. The driver had to adjust to three different driving styles in the span of five minutes. It was treacherous and it was deadly.

And Rayn felt like she was going to suffer a heart attack. She picked up the radio.

"Jak, do you read me?"

"For the fifth time, Rayn: Yes. I read you."

Sig took the radio from Rayn's hands.

"Let the boy concentrate, Rayn." He scolded.

"Right."

Sig sighed.

"You're makin' me nervous, Rayn."

She suddenly gasped and jumped at Sig with reaching arms.

"Call Keira again! Make sure her radio works."

Ashelin shot Rayn an irritated glare, Torn pinched the bridge of his nose, and Sig shook his head.

"How did you ever manage to take down, Razer?" Ashelin snapped. Rayn stopped her hopping and looked at the redhead, affronted.

"Well, it's different when you're out there. I'm going plumb barmy sitting around here."

"I can stick you out there right now, without a vehicle."

"Ashelin." Sig said warningly.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little—AIIIEEE! There they go!"

The racers had started off into the Eastern Tour. Because of the length of the race, a diversion of three tracks compounded into one, Rayn's team had to rely on the cameras following the racers. An immediate cry went up in the stands to join Rayn and her compatriots.

Hardly seconds into the race, Blitz had shot ahead of Jak and smashed his rear fender into Jak's front fender so hard that Jak spun out.

A stream of curse words was out of Rayn's mouth so quickly, she didn't even recognize what she said; but her curses were drowned by that of her team, who were equally aggrieved over the move.

Jak quickly regained control but lost precious seconds. Trailing in the back, Jak was given the rare opportunity to shoot at his opponents, very careful to avoid Keira and her helpful fire that he flanked. Jak was forced to juice a little turbo to clear the first, deadly jump onto the bridge. Up ahead, the four from Mizo's team had passed safely into the canyon walls and were winding their way to the beach. Keira and Jak would have to catch up before open firing again. Razer had settled into a comfortable lead once more, with Blitz hot on his trail.

Jak leapt ahead of Keira and waved her to follow him into a shortcut that closed their distance on the other racers. On the short straightaway of the beach, Jak signaled to Keira to fire missiles on '86 when she had him in her sights; he would join her fire with a barrage of bullets.

They attempted several times to line up just so, but each time '86 would weave out of harm's way and another attempt was foiled in the wake of a small mine field left behind by their enemies. They had passed into Haven city's circuit some time ago and they were still lagging. The pair used turbo and power turned where they dared to and drove a passive-aggressive line the rest of the time.

Finally, after running half the race, Keira and Jak lined up perfectly as Keira launched her volley and Jak supplemented with bullet fire. UR-86 tried to move out of the machine gun fire, nearly crashing into a wall, and forgot to dump chaff for the missiles. They connected. UR-86 spun out. While not officially out of the race, he had a lost a lot of time and didn't have the space to make it up.

The two of them raced onwards and came up on Kleiver.

Jak signaled Keira to take him out, while he went on ahead. Keira fisted the air to show she understood and fell in behind the Roadhog. The vehicle was known for its armor plating and Keira was going to need all her weapons to take him down.

The instant Jak got ahead of the enemy Wastelander, Keira open fired on him, so he would not fire on Jak. Jak sped away from Kleiver with gusto as he passed into the sewer part of the run.

Jak spied Blitz and Razer ahead and his breath caught in shock.

_The two were racing each other_.

Jak couldn't even describe it; it was…a friendly, but unfriendly competition. But he understood enough of the races to recognize when two vehicles were dueling for dominance. He watched them dip and sway around each other, undercutting and high riding, actually fighting for first place without weapons or driving the other into a wall. There was something going on between these two—something more than should exist between a champion and a sports reporter; something more than pride was at stake here. Jak watched them so long that half of the last section had gone by before he remembered he still had two cages of missiles on his car.

The Havoc had slightly less armor than the Road Blade, so Jak aimed for Razer's takedown.

And suddenly the two Mizo drivers, as though incensed he had interfered with their private competition, united against Jak; dropping chaff and mines and oil slicks so that Jak had an almost impossible time navigating through the twisting turns of the sewer. And again Jak's heart beat wildly as it sank; he was going to lose again! His weapon holsters were empty and his turbo would only accelerate him into the tight, confining walls of the sewer. He had could keep pace, but he couldn't keep up.

And the race was over.

Blitz had stolen his way into first, Razer into second, and Jak in third.

Kleiver had not been halted by Keira's volleys, though his Roadhog had been badly damaged; then Keira followed after. UR-86 hobbled over the line nearly a minute later to score his single point.

Jak greeted Keira with a big smile and a job well done for her excellent cover fire. Keira was still unhappy though. She secretly wanted to place right after Jak and she swore she would do it before the day was out.

Meanwhile, Blitz and Razer were in the middle of an intense stare down; so much so that they hadn't even left their vehicles or released their steering wheels. At least, until the media swamped Blitz for the amazing win. Looks like the sports commentator still has some moves after all these years! The reporters laughed and lights flashed, documenting the moment.

Razer moved out of his car to greet his own horde of microphones. He forced a smile for the audience on the other side of the hovering cameras, but it was hallow. He tried to maneuver his way out of the crushing throng, but a hand clamped on his forearm, and suddenly Blitz was swinging Razer into his side—waving, winking, and pointing poses for the cameras.

"What can I say? I love racing with this guy. Always loved him. He had spunk since I started commentating on him. Honor to race with the man. And what better time, am I right?" Blitz laughed in his rapid fire soliloquy. He clamped a hand on Razer's shoulder when the champion tried to extract himself. "We're a Dynamic Duo, no, the Big Boys Blitz, no, no, the Speed Brothers!"

Razer's eyes widened before he could stop himself.

Blitz's perfect fingernails ripped audibly on Razer's red jacket as he strode forward out of the pressing press. The crowd rambled about the move and Blitz drew the moment back.

"That boy, just can't wait to start planning for the next race." Blitz laughed off the champion's sudden, rude departure. But Razer didn't care. The Speed Brothers was a name sacred to only Abel Greyson and himself. And Razer still didn't know if Mizo was in fact responsible for his school friend's death.

He was muttering under his breath.

"Crutch. I'm going to kill you. When I see you next, I am going to kill you."

Razer absolutely had to know the truth by the start of the next race; his decision lay in the balance. He had the power to destroy whichever side he stood against. And he would only choose one.

Razer's fingers twitched.

He glanced back at his Havoc. His most trusted man in the pit crew would move it for him. He was going to review the race…and determine what had gone wrong.

* * *

"All right, everyone, here are the point totals." Rayn said as she pulled up the information on the main screen. Jak sat up over his knees and made a disgusted face.

"I'm tied with Blitz—for second?" he said with disbelief.

"With sixteen points." Rayn sighed. "And Razer in first with eighteen."

"I'm last?" Keira shrieked. "Oh. It's on now. Mizo's team is going to be driven into the dust. I'm going to double my weapon cages." She spat and headed down to the garage.

"Keira, adding more weapons is against regulations!" Sig called after her.

"Against regulations my ass! Look at who we're racing!" she shouted back without pause.

Rayn laughed despite herself.

"You're my hero, Keira!" she exclaimed.

"You girls are crazy." Jak smiled with a shake of his head. That got Rayn to laugh again and Ashelin joined in too.

"Watch it." Ashelin warned with mock annoyance. Rayn seated herself beside Jak as Daxter sprang up on the couch top beside her.

"So what do we do for the last race?" Daxter demanded.

Rayn smiled wickedly.

"I have an idea."

* * *

Razer paced the garage, fuming.

He had watched the playback for the race several times. Mizo was a sneaky old devil for a rusty wheel jockey. He actually had a spike set into his axel that could be hydraulically set in or out of its mold. The spike had shredded one of Razer's tires (a fluke Razer had incorrectly credited to the sewer grates), giving Mizo just enough edge to place over him.

But even that did not annoy him as much as Crutch did at that moment. The next race was due to start in fifteen minutes and still nothing. No word, no contact.

"Crutch, your name is going to be Shrapnel when I get through with you."

He paced two more laps before his head crewmen poked his head into the garage.

"My God, Razer, there you are. You have to be on the track _now!_ Everyone's waiting for you; the judges will count almost anything as misdemeanor and disqualify you if you're late. C'mon!" The man's head disappeared. Razer gave a sharp, impatient turn of his head. His green eyes flickered up to a wall of drawers set into the garage wall. He opened one drawer at thigh height and picked out a single box of three identical boxes. A single red button under a plastic cover sat on its face. His gaze flickered between the other two at rest. Razer gritted his teeth and shut the drawer again.

Razer began to head for the track and final race outside Mizo's mobile garage.

"I hope you're ready to meet Mar, boy."

* * *

For once, Rayn was not nervously flitting over the communication instruments, though she did hover over the weather radar. Of course, the machine was rather unneeded as the impending storm visibly loomed not twenty miles from the track.

The black clouds rose to swallow the sun as it set, not allowing a single ray to penetrate to the Dethdrome. Despite this, the public seemed determined to stick out the storm and witness the race of the century. It was too exciting to be missed because of a little weather.

An ominous rumble growled over the road and Rayn was growing impatient herself.

"Two false starts. Professionals acting like amateurs. Can't they get it right and get started already?"

Rayn was a knotted ball of nerves and she had to hug her arms tightly to herself to keep her stomach in place. Though her heart was rudely jumping about nonstop.

The last race of the season. The race that would officially give her the city and have her recognized among the bosses, or she would be forced to fulfill her mother's neglected contract with her own person. Rayn was tempted to mount an assault force did she have the horrible misfortune of losing, but no doubt Mizo would have a counterstrike in place. The way he had kissed her during their conversation at the fete spoke volumes of desire and isolation. She was certain, that had the man the chance…

Rayn swallowed back bile.

Jak had to win. He just had to.

_Bloody start the race already!_

"Easy, Rayn. I'm edgy enough as it is." Rayn started at Sig. Had she said that out loud?

"Bloomin' referees need to belt up and tick down before I get really brassed off." Rayn had started to pace the small metal pad, shooting ugly glares at the track below where the racers waited lined up. "I swear, if we don't get underway here in a minute, I'll—" Suddenly Sig caught Rayn around the waist and pulled her beside him. Rayn looked up at Sig, aghast, as his massive arm held her close. The Wastelander was a big man and at this range, Rayn suddenly felt very small.

"I know this is a big one for you," Sig said so quietly that only she could hear, "but I can't take any more tension. Every race today you've done this routine and I'm worried more about you than Jak." He looked her in the eyes and said slowly: "Jak will be fine. He promised he'd win this for all of us…and that includes you. Now," Sig released her, "relax."

Rayn's mouth had opened to his speech, but the woman had nothing to say. She curled her lower lip into her mouth, gave it a quick nibble, and nudged close to Sig. She had forgotten what strong arms felt like and she enjoyed the warm protection she found in the massive Wastelander. The big man chuckled and clasped a hand on Rayn's far shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She was pleased when his arm lingered and truly felt calmer for it.

The woman inhaled and exhaled once and at last, the countdown began again for the final race.

* * *

Razer gripped at his wheel; his Havoc gracing the head position on the track.

Though his hands clenched and unclenched, Razer's mind was elsewhere. Should he or Mizo place above Jak, Mizo would win the bet. Jak would have to place first and Razer no better than third for Rayn's team to win. Mizo or Rayn. An experienced crime lord versus a green horn. A safe, set routine promising rank and pay or a potentially dangerous, new intellect. Loyalty or devotion.

Why the Hell hadn't Crutch _called!?_

A warning blast erupted around the track as the banner flashed for the last race's countdown.

Razer's emerald eyes locked on the numbers overhead. Focus.

He was point leader and he intended to stay that way.

The champion leapt into an easy lead once more as the race began. The Dethdrome happened to be one of his favorite tracks for the simple structural design of a vortex that locked the racers around the third quarter of the track. A laugh built in his chest as he thought about it. Mizo suddenly shot ahead of Razer and his humor evaporated, reminded that this particular circuit was more business than race. Razer had not thought it possible for Mizo to suck the fun out of his beloved sport, yet here the result stared him in the face.

As if taking advantage of Razer's distraction, Jak ripped by on Razer's left, passing on the outside after coming out of a long-winded loop. The combat cars had already driven the first half of the first lap.

Razer smiled. Time flies.

He was about to press the button to leisurely launch missiles on the golden boy, but his shot was interrupted.

UR-86 tore into Razer's line of sight, hot on Jak's tail and raining a barrage of bullets. Kleiver not far behind with missiles bristling. Razer's chest compressed before expanding with a long intake of breath. He had warned them. He had. They entered the pact and trampled the parameters.

A horrible, twisted grin stretched the champion's lips. He would send them all off in style.

He was going to break some rules—particularly the ones Mizo had set.

The Havoc screamed as it lurched hard on its front wheels; dropping like a lead block to the back of the pack. The audience roared in a mixture of confusion and anticipation over the Havoc's engine. The champion efficiently opened the protective casing on every last weapon wired to the vehicle. His green eyes shot forward to the five racers down the track.

Open season.

* * *

"What the bloody Hell is he doing?"

On the communications pad, no one answered Rayn's question. Razer doing anything out of the ordinary was never a good sign. What had sparked this outrageous move? Rayn racked her brain for what had happened a moment ago, but she had three other racers to monitor in relation to Jak and Keira. Rayn's eyes narrowed as the hovering television screen chose that moment to get a close up of the motionless Havoc. Sitting. Waiting.

Rayn's chest was burning.

_What are you planning, Razer? _

* * *

A great sportsman, Razer gave his quarry a few moments to run, the public wild in the stands, before he leapt in pursuit.

The champion moved so quickly down the track that he caught up to the fifth place position halfway down the track…just before the vortex.

Razer's horrible grin was twisting the edges of his mouth again.

The Havoc sprinted forward, engine roaring, through fourth, third, second, to where a purple and orange Road Blade raced at the front of the pack. Razer whipped his wheel to the right as the track languidly spiraled downward. He overshot the turn so sharply that he was suddenly racing backward down the track; the four racers behind him now faced him.

"Chew on this!"

Razer shoved the stick into reverse and slammed the gas, screaming with throaty laughter as he unleashed a spray of bullets to and fro into the vehicles after him—on foe and friend alike. The vehicles behind him scattered for cover, riding high and ramming the guard rail low.

Razer effortlessly righted himself and shot forward once more, wheels shrieking as he power slid almost sideways into the second level of the spiral. Because of the chaos he'd made, the four drivers were still above him on the spiral's upper level, racing to catch up. A radar screen beeped and flashed green and Razer launched a missile volley at Kleiver. The champion was laughing raucously as the Roadhog spun out of control after impact. Then Razer turned more sharply and fired another set of missiles at the Dragonfly. The small car managed to divert one missile with chaff but the second struck on target. The champion's insane laughter rang over the track.

In retaliation, Jak fired heavily on Razer's tail, but the racer's maneuvering was quicker.

He lined up so that Jak was directly behind him, allowing the rain of bullets to connect, then dropped a mine. Jak whipped out of the path just in time, but '86 hit the defense dead on. Razer was shrieking with laughter as the automaton flipped three times into the air and fell over the side of the track. This was the only way to combat race!

The first lap went into the second, where Razer barreled down the track side by side with Blitz. His boss gave a thumbs up for keeping Jak at bay, not seeing the absolute mayhem Razer had wrecked behind them. Razer was only sorry he was running short on ammunition…and targets.

Still, the vortex could be entertaining no matter what the consequence.

The champion was still on a high from his carnal rampage and it lasted him for the first half of the second lap. Until Jak caught up to him.

The remaining drivers were entering the soft curve of the vortex and Razer once again slammed the breaks, accelerating at just the right moment to fall in behind Jak.

The trouble with the Road Blade was its temperamental gas tank. The tank was small and crammed into a cramped compartment over the turbo exhaust. All it took was a single bullet shot into the tank to turn the combat car into a flaming ball of metal and parts.

Razer took aim. His sights lined up perfectly in the split second and his trigger finger tensed to pull back—

_Don't hurt him._

Razer's eyes widened, finger hovering, and Jak swept to the right.

The man swore out loud and sharply spurned his vehicle to get the boy back in his sights. Almost, nearly, _there!_

Razer's finger began to depress.

_Razer, the championship. Don't hurt him._

Sapphire hair pinned up, an olive face, ruby lips moving to match the words he had just heard flashed across his mind's eye. Razer gave a violent shake of his head, promising to kill Krew's heiress for causing his hesitation. Fine. If he couldn't shoot the boy down, he had a sure fire option to kill him.

Razer reached for the fuse box he had kept in his breast pocket. One of three, this box was made just for Jak. A simple press of the button at center would send a radio signal to a fuse inside another box glued to the recesses of the Road Blade's engine. A simple press and the bomb attached to Jak's car would go off.

Razer grinned.

"Good-bye, Jak."

Razer flicked the safety cover open and leveled his trigger switch at the Road Blade, thumb pressing down on the button.

And suddenly, she was there—swarming his thoughts, obscuring his vision. His lady. The woman he had thought of nonstop, the woman he had pined after all these years, his unrequited love. The woman he saw was not Evelyn.

But Rayn.

He was with her beneath the overpass, racing alongside her in the Blue Eco Cup, on the cliff top in the Wasteland. His body pressed hers against the wall, her backside prevalent over Jak's car door, her warm, tender hand on his back. Her grenades launching at him for death, her rosy cheeks glowing after their dance. Her golden eyes gazing up at him with longing…passion.

Jak rolled on unharmed.

The fuse box dropped to the floor of the Havoc; the safety cover firmly in place.

Razer exhaled, keeping pace with Jak and nothing more.

A foreign sound hammered at his Havoc. The Dragonfly Razer had been sure he'd shot down was riding up his back with machine fire. But it was too heavy sounding, too raw. The bullets were large…larger than regulations stipulated. And Razer was forced to one side as the Dragonfly ripped past, flanking Jak as the drivers came out of the vortex.

A string of curse words spilled from Razer's lips when another foreign sound assaulted his ears. An incessant droning beeped at his chest, then stopped. The sound came again. _His phone!_

NOW!? "Crutch! I'm going to _kill_ you!" Razer yelled as he tore open his jacket, yanking the wheel in one hand, and retrieved his phone.

"GO!"

"Confirmed, sir, confirmed! Mizo killed Abel Grey—"

The phone exploded into pieces on the track.

The Havoc screamed past both Keira and Jak through the last turn and open fired on a Road Blade just straightening to the last stretch of the race. Both of its rear tires exploded and the vehicle hinged heavily on its right side, turning instead to crash headfirst into the guard rail.

The Havoc slowed; a red and a green vehicle rushed past on either side of the spiny armored car.

The stands erupted into shrieks and screams so wild that the Dethdrome rumbled, trembling on its metal reinforcements over the water. Thunder shook the arena as the impending storm swelled over the masses.

Jak had won the championship.

* * *

**Author's Note: FINALLY! I updated this story. I love school, I do, but it can drive me crazy. I popped in the game again and sat my butt down to write. Thank God for snow days...I have MISSED writing Rayn and Razer fluff! And wow, I hope this action-packed chapter makes up for the horrendous wait. I know I made a lot of sharp cuts between characters in this chapter, lots going on, you know? And I found myself actually laughing as I wrote out Razer's moment of insanity there. He was having fun! XD I do feel a little bad for not giving Keira much glory, but in my game she's terrible in the Yellow Eco Cup. She always places 6th. I believe she did a nice support job here (as opposed to the game where she's always blowing me up...) And I figure Rayn is biting her nails the whole time, rooting for Jak, but keeping an eagle eye on Razer...for purposes not related to racing. XD**

**It was fun writing out the races again, but they take so much planning! I had a move or two in mind when I began, but the rest is improvised or what I've actually had happen when running the Yellow Cup. And DUDE was Mizo so busted! What is Razer gonna do to him? Why are there three fuse boxes? What the heck happened to Rayn's earrings? How much longer will it take me to finish this monster?!?! [faint]**

**Anywho, I thank you all who are still reading this gigantic plot twist and I hope you are still enjoying! Drop me a line, y'hear?**

**Blackfire 18**


	17. Victory

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 17: Victory**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within.**

The stands erupted into utter chaos.

Rayn's racing crew had sprinted from the communications pad to join Jak and Keira, who vaulted out of their vehicles down the track. Cameras were flying everywhere and horns were blaring. Daxter had to jump clear as Jak was attacked by Keira; Torn, Sig, and Ashelin were suddenly around Jak in a tightly knit circle of shouts and smiles. Only Rayn was absent.

Back on the pad, Rayn had hung back. A stab of complete victory lanced through Rayn's mind so that she was frozen to the platform.

Mizo had fallen!

The city was now hers!

Rayn was given only a moment to wallow in the conquest when one of her father's agents burst into her quiet moment of success carrying the storage case for the antidotes to her father's poisoned wine. She thanked him and made her way to the victor's circle, unable to stop the smile that curled her lips.

Rayn could just make out Daxter and Keira bickering over the credit of the ultimate win when Jak spotted her.

"Rayn, what's going on?" he said, concerned for her brief absence from the circle. Rayn smiled reassuringly at him with just the smallest hint of gloating.

"Relax, this whole thing was designed to flush Mizo out. As for the poison, don't worry, I've got the antidotes right here." She held up the case for all relieved eyes to see.

"How could you know that Mizo would be close?" Ashelin asked, genuinely curious.

"Father tried to eliminate Mizo for years, but he could never ID the man. Then we realized: There is no Mizo…or rather…"

And suddenly G.T. Blitz, fresh from his outstanding loss, broke into their circle with a righteous fury prevalent on his features and an accusatory finger to match.

"Outta my way!" He elbowed Sig in the ribs and sidestepped Keira. His scorching indigo gaze burning into Rayn who met his outburst with well-acted shock. The perfect little actress. The perfect little liar. "You broke the rules!"

"Blitz?" Daxter voiced what everyone there was thinking that very moment. And in a fit of passionate fury, Blitz rounded on the orange Ottsel with a yank at his golden locks. The hair ripped away to reveal a bald head tattooed in black flames to match the flames on both his wrists—the mark of the Mizo crime family.

"I'm Mizo!" He burst, wild with rage, then he spun back to Rayn whose mouth opened with guiltless surprise. Oh, how well she performed. How nicely she cringed at his threats—the wronged innocent. These idiots just ate up her act; her clever perjuries of denying her father's inherent ilk. He would destroy her. Her and her unearned empire. End it all here. "And losing the bet changes nothing. I'll crush your family and this whole city..."

A horrible grin was spreading over Mizo's lips as he thought of the bomb he had ordered Razer hide in the Firebat. The explosion would detonate Krew's entire mobile garage and create a diversion long enough for him to knock out the damned she-devil and carry her off to tortures of every design he desired.

"…and no one else will ever know."

The bomb's switch lay in his breast pocket. He reached for it.

A familiar, parrot-like voice broke over everyone's heads.

"No one except for two-hundred million viewers that is."

"What?"

Mizo turned to see his co-anchor, Pecker, perched smugly above a flying camera. The camera's lens dilated and contracted; focused on him. Showing his face, his tattoos to the public. Mizo had spent a lifetime before that eye, carefully keeping his identity from the world, relishing the publicity and fame. Now it was his greatest bane. His secret was out.

"Smile for the cameras, big boy!" Pecker crooned over the hovering device. "Every star has to fall—right, Mizo?"

A groan mixed in frustration and hopelessness rumbled from his throat before he could stop it. His carefully procured empire had collapsed around him. The kingdom he had fought years and years to protect and keep. His fists raised to either side of his head as though to box his ears and escape the madness he had entered. He did not realize he had turned back to face Rayn. His eyes snapped open in horror.

There. There in her perfectly cultured persona of innocence he found a crack. There, at the corner of her lips, her eyes, he saw her involuntary shudder of ecstasy in complete triumph and his own doom. There in the false surprise at his outrage lurked the thinly veiled shadows of crime lords long past who bent the game to their means and crushed the rival in total conquest. She had beaten him. And she knew it.

In Rayn, he saw his complete and absolute defeat.

NO! He would not be toppled from his throne so easily!

Mizo lunged with a quickness borne of hate and fear toward Rayn, pleased at the real shock he saw in her that second, as he ripped the Nightshade antidote from her fingers.

"You will all DIE!" He swore as he sprinted for his Road Blade, lying mute and as defeated as its master on the track. Mizo spurned the engines to power and tore down the straightaway of the Dethdrome. Jak recovered from his shock first and leapt into his own Road Blade in hot pursuit of the disgraced crime lord. Rayn came to her own senses not long after as she stumbled hurriedly for the radio link on the communications pad.

"Get him! It's Blitz!" Rayn shouted over the line—only gunfire answered her appeals. "You must win this, Jak, it's our only hope." The team had gathered anxiously around Rayn as she stared down the track to where the two Road Blades swerved out of sight.

Krew's daughter swallowed as her gloved hand gripped to the radio comm. Her eyebrows were slanted in barely concealed fury.

* * *

A flame leapt to life over a lighter that rose to light a cigarette in a yellow gloved hand.

Razer stood on the roof of the second to last building on the way out of the city.

He had come here immediately after the last race, creating a smokestack for his nicotine fix, to make a final decision.

To his left he could see the Bloody Hook two blocks down. On his right yawned the dead expanse of the Wasteland. Razer's gaze flickered between the two landmarks; his decision already made. The cigarette he held now (including the eight others he had inhaled) was still hard at work to settle his indecision of the choice he had made on the Dethdrome tracks.

The race had not gone at all like he'd planned.

Jak should have died. That had been his first priority. No matter the circumstances. The others of Mizo's team should not have gotten in his way. Crutch should have phoned sooner with the information. And with the information, Razer should have been able to have made a firm and unwavering decision to destroy whichever crime lord, or lady, opposed it.

Nothing had gone right.

Razer had not regretted a decision since he was twelve.

These crime lords and their whimsical gambling habits were going to be the death of him. He had given his best years of life to crime and here he was again, rock bottom with nearly nothing to his name.

Razer exhaled through his nostrils; twin columns of smoke curled about his sharp face.

He needed a vacation.

Suddenly a sound reached his ears. He was perversely sorry to think it was the last sound he wanted to hear at that moment. The rat-tat-tat of gunfire blared up the street to his left. Razer hardly needed to look to know who had come. He had not been the only one to lose the race.

His green eyes flashed over his left shoulder to spy a purple and orange Road Blade, its driver still alive, galloping toward the churning sands of the Wasteland with a red and white Road Blade on its heels. Razer looked on, coldly curious to see who would prevail—the boy racing wonder with his deadly aim or ex-crime lord to freedom. An emotionally charged rush of adrenaline lanced through the racer as he saw the purple Road Blade kick high from a rear explosion.

The vehicle spun, its driver trying to regain control, before it rolled squealing side over side into a wall. The crash resonated in Razer's ears.

Green eyes watched as the blond-haired racing star exited his own combat car to retrieve a miraculously unscathed crate of green-vialed liquids. Razer took a long drag as the two men below him exchanged words.

Razer watched, but his mind was reeling back to all the significant moments he had shared with Mizo. The good and the bad. They had raced together on the tracks, the crime lord always gave Razer the best combat vehicles to date and every expense to upgrade them; Mizo had been his mentor and companion over the years. But Razer had had a friend before Mizo.

The champion calmly reached into his coat and pulled a fuse-box from it. One of three. The first had been made for Jak's vehicle. Razer had nearly triggered it in the final race, but it had gone unused. The second, for Rayn's Firebat. Also unused. The third…well…

Razer had purchased enough items required to make two decent pipe bombs from Mizo's allowance. These two would go on record and the receipt brought back to the crime lord as a show of good faith. Razer would not betray him. But the racer strayed over the counter all those weeks ago with a third set of ingredients to make a third pipe bomb, and instead of using currency that could be traced by the current crime lord as payment, Razer had pulled a priceless earring from his pocket.

Razer held the box in one hand. He dragged a final breath on his cigarette, tossed the butt over the building, and flipped the safety cover on the trigger open.

* * *

Mizo had felt it only right that the boy know of Rayn's treachery; but Jak, deaf to the entreaties, was walking away from him with the antidotes safely in tow.

"You have a habit of leaving people to die, don't you?" Mizo said bitterly, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, already knowing the boy's answer. Jak only paused, not giving the crime lord the decency to answer by facing him.

"You get used to it."

For Mizo, the moment lasted an eternity as the world before him faded in place of another. The smell of melted metal, leaking fuel and oil faded to be replaced instead with her perfume. Jak's retreating back became slender, a pronounced sway in the step. The metal pressing into Mizo's stomach, responsible for his internal bleeding, became the welcomed sock to his gut at her entrance.

Mizo was back in the private box with his father and Mr. Cunningham, waiting for the races to start, as Cunningham's sister came to greet a young Gilroy for the first time. She was young and full of life and her smile was generous, warm on Gilroy.

Mizo's indigo eyes looked up to the heavens before they rolled into the back of his head.

_Evelyn_.

A flash of light paired with a thunder so loud it burst his eardrums and pain exploded over him before it abruptly stopped. Then Mizo knew no more.

* * *

A round of glass vials clinked against each other as the six poisoned members of Rayn's racing team raised the antidotes to their lips.

Rayn's lips puckered for the bitter residue the antidote left on her tongue; but for her team there seemed to be no sweeter drink in existence.

With the vials empty, a cheer rang up in the mobile garage and the party officially began.

Rayn stayed awhile, matching her eager teammates drinks toast for toast until she quietly removed herself from the events to catch her breath in some fresh air.

The young woman stepped out onto a balcony, immediately assaulted with the sharp smell of earth moistening in anticipation for the storm that had been threatening since the final race of the season. Rayn inhaled until her ribs hurt, reveling in the fragrance when she felt a splash of wetness strike her forehead. One followed on her cheek not long after and suddenly the sky was in a downpour.

Rayn stood in her namesake for several moments, her clothing quickly soaked through, when she raised her eyes to the dark skies, her flowing tears hidden in the shower of water.

"I've done it, father. I've done it." Rayn spoke softly, imagining Krew's cheeks as they puffed for a proud, fatherly smile of approval. She wished she could have embraced him so they could both share in the victory. How she wished. Now she could only hope that he was watching and listening. "The city is mine."

"Rayn?"

Rayn turned, embarrassed, to see Jak's troubled face peering at her from the doorway. She dared not wipe her eyes and betray herself as he deftly maneuvered himself around the door and shut it behind him.

"What are you doing out here? You'll get sick!" his warm hands closed around Rayn's forearms as Rayn numbly allowed him to steer her back to the shelter of the awning. She looked up at Jak blankly, sopping wet and shivering. He looked her over, not very worse for wear, just wet and gazing up at him with that almost childlike stare that spoke years of a sheltered life. Jak suddenly smiled at her with a chuckle. "Rayn in the rain, heh heh."

Rayn's lips curled into a smile at his words and then the two of them were laughing. When they calmed, Jak gave Rayn's arm a tender squeeze.

"But really, you'll get sick. Come back inside." He said, reaching for the door, but when Rayn resisted he paused. Concern had etched about the corners of his eyes once more. "Is everything all right?"

Rayn hugged her arms to herself and smiled appreciatively at Jak.

"Jak, I…" she fumbled for the right words; perhaps a cold was already beginning to set in and fry her mind. "I can't begin to thank you enough for all you've done. You are…an amazing person, Jak." Her eyes dropped modestly to the ground. "My father had been right to choose you."

A corner of Jak's mouth pressed in with disgust.

"I wish he hadn't."

"I'm glad he did." Rayn smiled up at Jak and their eyes locked. Neither of them moved and the moment passed. The young woman glanced down shyly to break the tension that had suddenly sprung on them. "I…I wish he could have been here." Confusion flitted across Jak's face and Rayn clarified. "Dad. I miss him terribly."

Jak did not dare argue that there was much to be missed in the massive, grizzled old crime lord. He saw Rayn's throat shift as she swallowed. Jak was again seized with guilt.

"Rayn, I'm—"

"No." she cut across him. "No, I've already forgiven you. Goodness, I couldn't have gotten here without you. It's just…" she could not meet Jak's eyes as her voice dropped and the blond man had to strain over the strum of rain to hear. "I grew up away from him and…I just want him to be proud of me."

"I'm proud of you."

Rayn looked up at him.

"You managed to turn out a decent, upright person, despite Krew's influence. You're better than your father. I know it."

Rayn's stomach was knotting, her breath short. She wanted to love this beautiful blond wonder who could do the impossible, but she hated him for how guilty he made her feel.

When Rayn's uncertainty did not abate, Jak glanced to one side then back at her and nodded once. He instructed her to cup both her hands. When she did, Jak mimicked her and placed both of palms beneath hers. For an instant, nothing happened. Rayn's heart beat fast as she tried to focus on their joined hands but her eyes kept flickering up to Jak's. He was concentrating intensely. Rayn faltered through her wavering emotions for him.

Suddenly, a warmth spilled across Rayn's palms where a weightless, white light glimmered to life. She inhaled in wonder as a sensation of happiness flooded her being. The light lit up her genuine grin of pleasure. Jak's hands gently fell away from her own so that only Rayn held the light.

"What is it?" she murmured in awe, not daring to take her eyes from the softly swirling radiance.

"It's light eco."

"Light eco?" Rayn repeated; her voice distant, not entirely focused on the conversation. She felt as though she had one foot on the balcony of the mobile garage and another in a world of carefree bliss. "It's beautiful." She managed at last.

Jak, who was familiar with this dazed reaction he often received from Keira when they shared this light, chuckled.

When the glow eventually faded, the luminescence that had lit up the balcony disappeared, but Rayn's contentment stayed as she grinned up at Jak. Amazed at this new gift she found in him.

"Now come on, let's go in." Jak said, holding the door open for Krew's daughter. Rayn dipped her head in thanks, sending several droplets of water to cascade forward from her sapphire hair. She perked up at once when a ring sounded from one of her pockets. She retrieved her cellular phone and snapped it open.

"Yes?" she answered with a sideways smile at Jak; he could stay if he liked, this should be brief. Then her face screwed up with an emotion Jak could not place. "Are you joking me? Of course you should move forward. You called to ask for approval—well, what did you think I would say?" she chided over the phone, though an excited tenacity had entered her voice. She snapped the phone shut again and shrugged at Jak in mock helplessness. "Help these days."

Jak had no response for her but motioned she go in before him and Rayn complied, shivering with a chill that had finally manifested itself, as they entered the mobile garage. Sig walked by carrying a couple of beers when he spotted Rayn. He nearly dropped the bottles when he saw her dripping on the carpet and he quickly ushered her, head shaking, to the nearest bathroom for towels.

"You're soaking wet! I can't leave you alone for two minutes. Used to do this all the time when your father was away at meetings and then _I'd_ get the earful for your getting sick. You haven't changed one bit."

Rayn laughed the whole way.

* * *

Razer had pulled up to the Bloody Hook, trading his keys for yet another cigarette to still his nerves. He had already smoked two packs since the end of the tournament. He needed to leave the city for awhile. He'd have a final drink at the Hook then get underway.

The racer entered the bar and looked out on the mass of faces that turned to greet him. As expected, he was swarmed by the slew of Mizo's ranks who were now unemployed.

"Razer, Mizo lost the bet! He lost! Where does that leave us? Where the hell is he?"

"Krew's girl is in charge of the city? I thought I'd never see the day."

"Our contracts are nulled. We've got nothin'. That girl ain't gonna take us after we raced against her."

"I don't want to work for a lady crime lord. That's just so, so backwards! It's wrong is what it is."

"What do we do now?"

"Where is Mizo?"

Razer held his palms outward which effectively silenced the shifting mob. All eyes were on him as they awaited the ex-champion's verdict. Razer dragged on his smoke.

"Mizo is dead." Razer said through the deafening silence. The men surrounding him met this news with uncomprehending shock. "I need a drink."

Was all he said.

The masses parted to let the red-jacketed racer through, stunned that he had no ready answer for them as he always did. Razer met with almost no resistance as he passed to the bar table, except for one young man who bumped into the racer. Hard.

Razer, in no mood to be tangled with at that moment, glared daggers at the indiscriminate young man with tousled hair. His butterfly knife was at the boy's throat before he made a thought for it.

"Eee! Please, sir, I wasn't paying any attention. Entirely my fault. I apologize for being so rude. Don't hurt me!" the garbled words grated on Razer's ears but the racer snapped his knife shut and gave the younger man a death glare. The tousle-haired youth took the nasty-meaning reprieve with thanks and hurried out of the bar.

Razer's eyes rolled into his forehead as he finally made his way up to the bar and took a seat. He tapped the bar and a readymade drink slid into his waiting palm.

He needed a vacation.

A vacation from this city, from crime and insane crime lords. He would return to his old haunts and find some direction from there. It was the plan he had made over the building. The plan he had decided on after witnessing Mizo's explosive death on the street below him.

Razer downed his drink and finally turned, unsurprised to see Mizo's men still awaiting his words of reassurance and comfort. Razer, Mizo's second in command, would know what to do. The men squeezed and crammed against each other to hear what the champion had to say.

The racer cleared his throat and fished for yet another cigarette. The last in its pack.

"Boys." Razer began, his voice was mellow but it carried throughout the Bloody Hook. "Mizo is dead." He repeated so that all would hear him this time and the reactions were more mixed than the last, though most still looked on Razer for hope in light of this terrible news. "There is a new crime lord presiding over Kras and her name is Rayn Krew. You may not like it but it is what it is. My spies have told me that Krew has already signed contracts for her desired racers and there are few remaining spots left open for any of you. The plan is to evict most, if not all the last traces of Mizo's crime family." A chorus of angry shouts rose in the bar but Razer's chillingly strong voice silenced them all once more.

"I understand your feelings of the circumstances, but any hostility toward the new lord will be met with harsh and immediate action. Krew has a substantial army behind her and I have no doubt she will jump on any reason to crush us all. We cannot fight."

Voices were screeching everywhere for action or an alternative to their horribly constrained fate. Razer let them scream as he dragged half of his cigarette to ash. He exhaled the smoke in a large cloud and the mob went silent once more.

"My brothers, you have one of three options." Hopeful eyes glittered up at Razer. "First, leave town and start your lives over doing small crime in small cities or go straight selling flowers. Second, drop your pride, own up, and grovel to be hired by Krew's daughter as she _is_ the new crime lord of Kras City. Or third, show your devotion to the deceased crime lord and commit yourselves to graves."

Dead silence met Razer's statements.

Razer quietly tapped the butt of his last cigarette out in the ashtray beside him.

"Well, boys, best of luck." Razer began to make his way out of the Bloody Hook to a horde of shocked stares, but his closest men halted him.

"Where are you going, Razer?" Shiv asked, without accusation.

"What are we going to do without you?" Edje joined in. The dark eyes behind Cutter's mask were watery. The three wanted guidance and to feel that their loyalty to Razer all these years had not been in vain. Surely the man would not be so cruel to just up and leave his devoted following?

"I'm retired." Razer shrugged. "And I plan to take what's left to my name and do just that…on a tropical island." He clasped Edje by the shoulder and gave a small smile. "Crime has become too commercial these days."

The three men opposite Razer laughed, appreciative of their leader's humor in so dark a time. They watched as the ex-champion moved passed them, leaving them behind to pursue his own objectives. He had advised them and the choice was ultimately theirs to make. Perhaps they would see each other again, perhaps not.

Razer reached into his breast pocket in search of his keys, but the silken pouch was deceptively flat. His fingers searched more furiously, itching for another burst of nicotine for this freshest of anxieties.

He passed through the Bloody Hooks doors.

What the--? Where were his keys? Where in hell were his—

Razer stopped dead on the street.

The space his Havoc V12 had occupied only moments ago was empty.

A cold seized Razer as his mind put the equation together. The blood vessels in the racer's neck burst as a scream of inhuman rage exploded from his throat.

"KREW!"

* * *

Rayn had returned to her home estate after a long night of partying with her team mates, the team who had won her the gold and the city. She could not remember a time she had had so much fun. Keira had given Rayn a hug in thanks for taking the position in the last race and even Ashelin had loosened up enough to clink glasses with the crime lord's daughter in congratulations. Daxter had passed out somewhere. At one point, Rayn had rambled off a slew of intoxicated native lingo which sparked a round of story-telling that everyone participated in. It was great fun.

Now, at two in the morning, Rayn slipped out of her heels and searched for a tonic in the kitchen cabinets to detoxify the alcohol still swimming in her belly. She found the clear glass bottle behind the cinnamon and drank it, cringing at its sour taste. It was with this face that she greeted her butler.

"You'll be the death of me yet." Gerard said as he walked around the counter and swept Rayn into a tight hug. "Congratulations on a stupendous win, dear."

The butler had already replaced all the items Rayn had removed from the cabinets in her search for the tonic when she caught up to the conversation.

"We won, Gerard!" Rayn slurred. "We won!"

Gerard smiled patiently as he shut the last cabinet and motioned that she follow him.

"Come, Rayn dear, there is something waiting for you in the garage."

Rayn followed her butler, knocking a hip into the doorframe and giggling at how it spun her around. Gerard came back for Rayn and supported her through the long walk of inane talk and sniggering to the garage.

The pepper-haired man pushed gently through the double doors and flicked on the lights to the massive ten-car garage. Rayn immediately sobered at the sight.

There, sitting neatly between her Luxord and Opus (the most expensive luxury cars on the market), was Razer's Havoc V12. A jangle sounded to her left and she looked blankly at the set of keys Gerard held. They glinted as they fell into her numb hand. She looked back at the vehicle.

Rayn extracted herself from Gerard's gentle hold and walked over to the red and black combat car, so viciously angular and menacing between her sleek leisure vehicles. She had never been this close to the monster before and she ran an appreciative hand over its fender.

"Landon had a devil of a time securing it, but, here it is." Gerard watched as Rayn lifted herself rather gracefully after her drunkenness into the driver seat. "Oh, I nearly forgot."

Rayn barely noticed Gerard's exit from the garage as she settled back into the firm leather of the seat. It was professional grade and just wide enough to fit its owner's back. It was a little large for Rayn, but she melted into it nonetheless.

The car smelled like him.

The smell of leather mixed with sweat and cologne rose strongly around her and Rayn was lifted into that heavy haze of complacence she had entered the night they danced together once again.

Rayn shut her eyes, enraptured, thinking of how Razer would normally sit in the place she now rested. One strong hand on the wheel as the other deftly shifted gears. Every muscular limb shifting to make the vehicle obey his every whim. A shy smile quivered at the corners of her lips and she opened her eyes; her cheeks pink.

The young woman reached out for the leather steering wheel. Her fingers closed on the wheel and she could instantly feel the power behind the car, even though it was not turned on. Her eyes flickered deviously to the ignition switch and she reached for the keys Gerard had given her. The Havoc's key had inward-facing teeth that resembled a crocodog's open maw. She bit her lip to contain her excitement as she slid the key into the switch and turned.

The Havoc's engine rip-snorted as it turned over and roared to life. The thunderous rumble reverberated triple fold in the confines of the garage and Rayn trembled in pleasure at the beastly bellow.

Rayn felt even more powerful in the vibrating body of this vehicle than she had when she leveled a gun at Mizo. A fresh sensation was rippling up her spine and lanced pleasurably through the base of her skull. Her head felt light. Lights went up everywhere across the panels of the dash and Rayn looked at them all, suddenly anxious. She shut the engine off in case she loosed some hidden weapon cache in her garage. Rayn replaced the keys in her pocket.

The crime lady turned her attention instead to poking around the many crevices of the car's inner compartment. She discovered a small cubby that held a lighter, a pack of smokes with a single cigarette inside and…

Rayn's eyes opened wide.

A small golden trinket jingled in her palm.

Her earring!

Rayn's mouth opened. She held the golden precursor up to the light where it swayed gently. She considered it a moment then closed her fingers around the heirloom and dug again into the cubby. Where was its mate?

When she came up empty-handed, Rayn settled back into the leather seat once more; her mind filled with the mystery of Razer.

The main doors to the garage opened again and Gerard pushed through with something tucked under his arm. Rayn watched his approach, not inclined to leave the interior of the Havoc, as he drew up. Her butler handed her an unremarkable pale-white, leather-bound book. Rayn turned the book over, there were no insignias, no title, no markings to go on of the book's origin. The young woman gave the man above her a curious stare.

"It's your mother's diary."

Rayn's expression remained blank before it was overtaken by a staggered amazement. Gerard place a hand on Rayn's slender shoulder and found it was quivering slightly.

"Your mother wanted you to read it, when you were ready. I wanted to give it to you as a present for your sixteenth birthday, but lost access to it when your father compounded all his documents into a locked filing cabinet. Then it was nearly gambled away…" Gerard saw Rayn still staring at the diary as though it might burst to flame at any moment and he quickly changed tact. "At any rate, here you are, dear. I apologize for the wait."

The butler smiled softly at his mistress and began to leave when Rayn stopped him. He turned back to see her amber eyes were flashing like the sun. He remembered that glare.

"Gerard, did you read it?"

The man stood straight under that gaze, so like its predecessors', and answered truthfully.

"No."

The doors to the garage close softly after the butler and Rayn's eyes settled on the plain diary once more.

She inhaled a rattling breath that she had not realized she had been holding as she pressed back into the Havoc's driver's seat.

Rayn opened the diary.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hooray! This chapter marks the only story I have that tops the 100,000 word mark. And soon to be 100 review mark also! Yay! I can't believe I've stayed focused on this fic so long. I have all my wonderful reviewers to thank for it.**

**I have lots of lovin' for this chapter. Where to start? The bit with Rayn over the radio, Razer overlooking Mizo's death, Mizo's last thoughts, RaynxJak moment, Razer's well-founded fury at his stolen car, and Rayn just living it up in the Havoc at home. I just summarized the whole chapter. HA! But really, I loved writing these little moments. I'll miss Blitz, he was so oily it's hard not to love him. And I've been thinking about Razer's reaction to his nicked vehicle all week--and laughing my head off. And of course I had to have that final intimate Rayn and Jak moment because somewhere in me is a closet RaynxJak fan. To the END! (Hey, I wouldn't pitch it if there wasn't evidence. But there was. Lots of it.)**

**I finally answered some questions too, I think. Though I probably raised more also, I think. RenjiLuvah, I totally referenced your fic with that "Luxord!" Guilty! And the analogy with the whole cars=human bodies works in this one. Perhaps scarily so. Sex? What? [Anime-style nose bleed.]**

**I have, without a doubt this time, one final chapter to go. The epilogue. It's sure to please. [COUGH COUGH faint] The nice bit is, I wrote a good deal of the epilogue months and months ago so it shouldn't be too hideously long of an update for the last. I hope it delivers!**

**Drop me a line--we can all scream over the infamy of Razer's stolen car...and hide me, please.**

**Blackfire 18**


	18. Epilogue

**Cat and Mouse**

**Chapter 18: Epilogue**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jak X: Combat Racing or any of the characters there within (Gerard is mine!), they are property of Naughty Dog and I am not making any profit from this, etc.**

**Quick warning for semi-explicit content? For those of you against it, the story ended last chapter. :D**

To say Razer was livid was an understatement.

The retired racer was in a frenzied state of passionate fury that Krew's daughter had managed to steal his combat vehicle right out from under him. The Havoc was more of a friend and lover than any woman he had crossed paths with and the vehicle continued to conquer the coveted, sacred centre of his heart. To find his precious Havoc missing was like trying to operate without limbs. He was upset, to say the least.

And yet…while he wanted to strangle Krew for this most unholy of acts against him, somewhere in him quietly congratulated her for her foresight and tenacity. She wanted him to stay—to discuss a contract, to head her underground mob, to thank him for the pains he took keeping her safe, whatever her reasons—she wanted him to stay. That was, at least, until they spoke.

Of course, Razer did not discover this muted acknowledgement from the very depths of his enraged thoughts until after he had destroyed most of his residence. More than half of his stored wine had gone into his stomach to get him mellow enough for reflection.

He was too mortified by the whole ordeal to ask a ride home from one of his boys; Mar, his combat car stolen by some punk who barely knew how to drive. An amateur mistake. A pedestrian error to allow someone, anyone to steal from him. Had anyone seen…the humiliation was too great to even think of it.

He had had to walk back to the late Mizo's manor.

He was out of cigarettes.

And the walk home had done nothing to cool his wrath or sway thoughts of brutally murdering Rayn.

Void of any nicotine fix, Razer occupied himself with the first weapon on his person he found. His butterfly knife had been whipped in and out of its casing so often, so violently, that it actually sheared the pivot pins in half. Now Razer had a useless blade and two handles stuffed in his pocket.

When Razer finally reached his door and remembered his missing keys, he violently kicked the door in. The wood splintered and the reverberating bang was the red flag waving before the snorting bull. Razer smashed everything he could get his hands on.

The rage was a culmination of Mizo's death, Jak seizing the championship, and now his stolen Havoc. Razer rarely lost himself, but there was only so much a man could take and Razer had reached his breaking point.

The ashtray on the coffee table was stuffed so full that it looked like an albino porcupine. Wine bottles lay strewn about the room, deep crimson spots spattered over the carpet like blood. Razer himself had stretched out on his sofa—one of the few furniture items left upright; an unfinished cigarette in his hand dribbled ash onto his carpet.

The man's body would not have felt a bullet puncture his flesh, but his mind had finally calmed to a lull of perspective thought.

Mizo was dead. Nothing could undo that, why spare any more thought for it?

Jak was a superb racer and venerable adversary. If Razer had had to lose to anyone, he was glad to hand the mantle over to the boy.

Rayn…

Razer lost concentration a moment as his stomach knotted. The alcohol settled in his stomach and the man tried to raise his hand to take a drag, but his arm was too heavy. His train of thought circled and returned.

Rayn. Daughter of the Krew crime family. Progeny of the bulldog and vixen. The newly instated crime lord of Kras City who had a bone to pick with Mizo's second in command enough to resort to vehicular theft. What shocked Razer was Rayn's amazing, and unusual, foresight. She must have known (or guessed?) that Razer was planning on leaving and that he would swing by the Bloody Hook before vacating the city. She had been tracking him since the last race, if not well before, and at last she had been able to drive the nails into his coffin. Rayn Krew had been waiting for that ultimate win to spring the trap she had set around the ex-champion. Control was hers.

What perhaps was even more shocking was how quickly Rayn had executed this series of events in the time she had ascended the throne. Had she planned this all along? Was she not as innocent as she led others to believe?

Razer tried again to raise the smoke to his mouth and found himself incapable. He wasn't even sure the cigarette was in his hand anymore.

Had she fooled them all?

Razer thought back to all the moments that they were brought together, pushing down the churning knots that seized his stomach once more.

He tried to remember her face beneath the bridge when he had announced his coming out of retirement; the wide amber eyes, the trembling ruby lips. The Blue Eco Cup, she had been damned near flirtatious with him and at once frustrated. Razer's coughing laugh filled his apartments as he saw her annoyed pouting lips before his mind's eye. The way her brow knit was attractive. Their second meeting under the bridge when he could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest when he cleverly hid wandering eyes from them with an aptly timed kiss. Her small, warm hand on his back over the cliff top in the Wasteland. Her jump to slip her arm through his when he threatened to find another dance partner. Their dance.

Razer's fury at the girl was fading.

The sound of her miniature pistol clattering to the ground; refusing to fatally wound him, even if he had reloaded the magazine to fire on the empty chamber.

Somewhere along Rayn's race to the top, Razer had joined her and he did not remember when his true aid toward her had truly begun.

Though he did not wish to stay now because the girl had been such a strain to look after for the few months he had relocated resources to her side of the board. Should he choose to stay in Kras, the stress of looking after Krew would no doubt kill him.

But…despite all of her ineptitude, there had been moments where Krew seemed to legitly know what she was doing. Brief flashes; a tell in her posture, a crease in her smile that was contrary to all her, puerile, air-headed imprudence of the crime world.

Whatever Krew was, fortunate innocent or criminal mastermind, he would see her tomorrow.

No one. Stole his car. Without punishment.

* * *

Rayn sat in her Firebat a moment longer.

Everything had gone swimmingly since the city had fallen under her command so far. Not a hitch or a wrinkle in her plans.

Except this one.

She had agreed to meet the team for one final shindig at the Bloody Hook (since it was under new management and everything now) and she wavered on the sword's edge of judgment. She had grown to care for these people and now she was saying farewell in the worst of ways. She had wanted to leave them in good spirits, but she didn't want to lie to them any longer either.

Rayn glanced at a cubby below the dash where her father's diary sat. She glanced at the entrance to the Hook then bit her lip.

The young woman grabbed the electronic pad and made her way inside.

She was amiably greeted by her team and a quick round of drinks was ordered as the final races' events were replayed on the screens overhead and in their conversation. Rayn had set the diary down on the bar table and took the available seat beside Jak, who smiled over at her so warmly that Rayn was resolute in doing the unthinkable: Telling her team the truth.

Rayn carried on with them all for nearly an hour, savoring the moments and committing as much about them to memory as she could force into her head to relish later. When at last that terminal phone call rang and Rayn had to step out to answer it. It was one of her employ calling to say her contracts for the surrounding crime bosses had been completed, with every ramification in place. Rayn shut her cellular phone and reentered the Bloody Hook, feeling confident and yet torn. She hid her sorrow at this departure, trying to allow her success take its place.

She moved in just as Daxter was finishing a rather inaccurate retelling of the end to Mizo, according to her spies.

"Well everyone, I must be on my way." Rayn stopped beside Sig and glanced at each in turn, memorizing their faces, their smiles—before those happy looks were dashed by the compromising evidence she would leave them. "Thank you all for helping take out my father's enemies. This town will be a better place for it."

Rayn glanced over at Jak. His blue eyes warmed her as she recalled the private moment they had shared over the balcony of the mobile garage. Dear, sweet Jak. If only they had not been born into different worlds. She would never forget him.

Rayn moved toward him and held out a formal hand.

"And thank you, Jak. For showing me the light." She smiled at their secret joke and Jak surprised her by wrapping her into a hug. Jak was stronger than he looked and his embrace was tight, almost protective. The young woman breathed in his scent; a mixture of berries and champagne that forever imprinted on Rayn. She pulled back and looked into his cerulean eyes, unable to banish the guilt that ate away at her heart. She could barely meet that trusting gaze. She was glad when Sig spoke up on her left, giving her an excuse to be free of those eyes.

"Be better than your father." Sig advised, raising a glass to her. Rayn nodded assurance and extracted herself, for the last time, from the group. Her back to the them, a wicked grin was spreading unbidden on her lips.

_Oh, I intend to_.

Her walk was calm, but her heart was beating fast. She had to be out of there before they discovered she had left them her father's diary. Rayn could still feel Jak's eyes on her as she pressed on.

Sweet Jak. She couldn't bear to see his disappointment in her.

Just then, Daxter exclaimed: "You know, that old girl ain't so bad. Waitta second. She forgot Krew's diary."

Rayn had rounded the door just as she heard her father's prerecorded message begin. She trotted to her Firebat and did just as her vehicle was so rightly named; drove like a bat out of hell. She snapped open her phone, her hands unusually trembling; she just kept seeing Jak's face after the message and it agonized her.

The phone rang on the other side and a low voice answered.

"Call a meeting." Rayn said at once. "I want every crime boss present."

"You mean—"

"That's right. I'm running this town now. Father was too soft." The Firebat leapt to obey a turn Rayn demanded of it as it raced on toward the sunset.

"Do you want the racers disposed of?"

"No, don't eliminate the racers. They were my friends." Rayn imagined the team's shock as they stood around the bar of the Bloody Hook in shock. Jak's face was most prevalent. "Although probably not any longer. Ah well," the young crime lady brushed off the barbs of guilt. It wouldn't do to begin her career mixed up over ethics. This was crime for pity's sake. "It's just business."

* * *

Six men dressed in an array of business suits, ranging in age from thirty-five to sixty-two, sat back in their red leather chairs as they impatiently awaited the meeting to begin. One man glanced at his watch as another took a long swig of water in a finely carved glass, as yet another pumped back and forth in his chair with an irritating squeak. Beyond these sounds of growing agitation, the room was silent.

All six looked up at the double cherry doors swung open to reveal a young woman carrying a deep green bottle. Furtive glances were exchanged across the table as she paused at its head to smile around the small group.

"Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting. Wine?" she offered, lifting the bottle lightly above her waist.

"Why did you summon us here, Krew's girl?"

One of the men cut across her invitation to the drink. If Rayn appeared at all offended or thrown off by the sharp comment, her face betrayed no measure of it. She calmly placed the decanter on the table. The men around the table eyed it warily. Rayn's fingernails clicked in the silence as they settled beside the bottle; she smiled at the table before raising her eyes.

"I believe you are all familiar with the wager Mizo made with the Krew crime family and are well aware that my team has won the Kras Cup. This city is mine."

Krew's daughter watched the bosses aloofly as a murmur of protest ran through the group. Another speaker younger than the first spoke up on her left.

"What makes you think the city will stay under your control?"

Rayn gracefully slid into her chair at the head of the table to several indignant stares.

"A simple system that takes after the bureaucracy," her fingertips formed a steeple before her mouth. "Contracts."

-"A piece of paper don't stop bullets, little lady."

-"Where's your muscle? You've got nothing and no one here to protect you."

-"What's to stop us killin' you right now?"

"Gentlemen," Rayn waved her hands as though to silence bickering children, which only seemed to heighten the frustration in the room. A few of the men began to rise in their chairs, and her gaze on them was one of piercing fire. "You forget that my father dealt in the weaponry trade." Her finger's fanned with a vague motion to the wrap-around deck above them as each crime boss looked up to see six black-clad snipers targeting each of them below. The two who had risen slowly sank back to their seats.

"I'll only ask you to reconsider once." Rayn let her fingers steeple before her mouth and announced lowly over the now silent room. Another man entered from the double doors with a stack of paperwork and laid out a packet before each crime boss. "Going around are your contracts if you would kindly sign them now. A full register of the newly appointed parliament and laws will follow within the week. You may read about them and I will be happy to answer any of your questions then."

"I'm not signing anything until my lawyer goes over this contract." A younger man in the group snapped, tossing the papers onto the desk before him so they scattered in sheaves. A few of the other bosses followed suit. Rayn poured herself a glass of wine, unperturbed.

"I don't have time to wait for all of your attorney's to hold your hands through the process." Rayn nodded her thanks for the man who handed out the contracts. "Just sign."

"I'm not agreeing to anyth—"

"Boys." Rayn tilted her smiling face to her snipers above to a chorus of loaded magazines. The silence following afterward was deafening. Rayn boredly drew a lock of sapphire hair behind one ear and examined her fresh French tips. When she spared the noiseless room a glance, she found fear and anger in the eyes of her opposition as they glared at her and the hit men above them. She cheerfully addressed the last to have spoken out. "I'm sorry, what was that you were saying?"

The silence stretched as the six bosses angrily resigned to their fate and scratched their names across the contracts.

None looked up to see the vicious smile spreading across the lips of Krew's daughter. When the last pen ceased moving, Rayn languidly moved to stand.

"Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure." She said and turned and nodded to the man who had handed out the contracts. He nodded in return and went to retrieve the signed documents. She raised a glass filled with wine to toast the men. "To your health."

She drank. The men watched.

Leaving the bottle and many mutinous glares to follow her back, Rayn exited the conference room.

The door closed behind Rayn. As she drew nearer to the foyer, a plain faced man dressed all in black approached her silently. This was the man who had escorted her from the Bloody Hook that fateful night Mizo had tried to clench his iron fist around her throat. His interview had gone well. He silently awaited her orders. She continued to stare straight ahead as she strode purposefully past him.

"Kill them."

* * *

Shiv, Cutter and Edje stood at the shattered doorway to Razer's apartment. Each of them was shocked at Razer's violent grief over Mizo—the place was trashed. In the center of the chaos lay the retired racer himself, out cold on the couch.

Edje was the first to sneak into the room where the racer dozed, his jacket misplaced so that he only wore his boots, slacks, and white muscle shirt. His jet black hair was a tousled mess and his last cigarette had burned a hole through the carpet beneath his overhanging hand. Both of his naked wrists proudly displayed the fire emblem of Mizo's best. Only Razer could have both wrists tattooed in such a manner, as Mizo had hand-picked him of them all.

Edje tapped Razer's shoulder.

No response.

Edje tapped harder.

No response.

Edje took a hold of the shoulder and shook.

A hand clamped on the thug's wrist so quickly that Edje shouted in surprise. Razer was glaring up at the intruder with very coherent, flashing green eyes.

"Boss?" Edje began tentatively. The other thugs were quietly making their way into the room; backing Edje. "We got news about Krew."

Edje's trapped hand was going white as the retired racer studied him.

"Tell me."

Edje looked up at the other two for help in freeing his hand, but they made no effort to remove Razer's fingers.

"Our funds have been frozen."

Razer's brow furrowed.

"None of us can take out money. Our cards are useless. Krew's got control of the banks and…well…"

"Spit it out."

"Well, well we heard that Krew had the crime bosses—you know, the Big Six? Executed."

The thugs waited for Razer's response. Shiv and Cutter had come close enough now to watch the racer over the back of the couch.

Razer seemed to take an eternity to register the shock, but no shock came. The man's eyes narrowed and he blinked as though trying to arrive to a conclusion that seemed impossible.

"Little Krew. Killed the Big Six." Shiv repeated, disbelieving.

"How?" Razer croaked. The thugs were confused. Razer usually had an answer for them by the first statement.

"We were told by snipers." Edje said, trying to wriggle life back into his sickly white hand.

"But they signed something first." Shiv added. Cutter nodded brusquely beside him.

Finally, a shock passed over Razer's face.

"Mein Gott." He slipped into his native tongue. "Ich glaube nicht es."

And Razer exhaled a sharp bark of laughter. The boys looked at each other, only understanding that Razer had completely misunderstood…or lost his mind.

"What do we do, boss?" Shiv asked.

Edje shook his hand in agony but made no sound when Razer finally let him go to stand. The racer had recovered from his bout of insanity and the thugs were feeling better. This was more like the Razer they knew.

"What I told you at the Hook. And you'd better make up your minds quickly. This may get ugly fast." The racer was turning over tables and chairs until he located his red jacket. He found it under a pile of wine-stained clothes, thankfully, untarnished. The thugs realized they had been dismissed and they began to move for the door.

"Oh boss, one more thing." Edje spoke up from the doorway as Shiv and Cutter peered over his shoulder to monitor Razer with curiosity. "We got in last night and your car wasn't there."

"GET OUT!"

The boys nearly fell over each other to obey, their banging footsteps echoed noisily down the hallway. Razer glared after them, teeth grinding. He still had a bit of a headache and some sensitivity to sound, but for the most part, he had unwittingly slept off his hangover. Two full days of sleep worked wonders for a troubled mind.

Had Mizo's boys been a bit slower in their hasty retreat, they might have heard Razer's wild laughter. The fit was long and loud and the man actually had to wipe his watering eyes. "Jene Frau."

The racer lit up and took a drag, exhaling another raucous chuckle through the smoke. His distant stare matched his amused smile.

"Well played, Krew. Well played."

* * *

The new crime lord stepped lightly over the threshold to her house and shed many things at once, her purse and briefcase among them. She had not been home for two days. Gerard entered from a doorway on her right, summoned by the shut door, and his arms opened wide for her. Her smile was bright and unabashed as she walked up to him, just meeting his height with her high heels as they embraced.

"Well done, old girl." Rayn exhaled her relief for the simple pleasure and how tightly the butler hugged her. He was obviously impressed. "Well done. You're father would have been proud." They pulled apart.

"I certainly hope so," she tilted her head to one side as Gerard took a good look at her. Was he scrutinizing her already for her newly acquired position?

"What a lady you've become. You look so like your mother." He met her eyes with a wide smile as Rayn bashfully glanced down for the compliment. "Now you can't go growing up too fast. I forbid it."

Rayn laughed and shook her head as she walked past him, he was being silly.

"I suppose you'll be wanting me to run around in my knickers like I used to." Her smile turned sly as she amusedly watched her servant stumble for his words.

"You don't have to go that far back." He mumbled reservedly.

Rayn spun on the bottom step of the elegant sprawling staircase that yawned before the foyer and tapped her nails on the balustrade. She unconsciously nibbled one lip.

"Oh Gerard," she hesitated, "has…has the owner of the Havoc rung yet?"

The butler's eyes turned on her in suspicion, but he continued to gather her suitcase.

"No."

"I see." Rayn hid her surprise at the retired racer's delay. Surely it was not so long a walk? "Well then, I think I may freshen up."

It was here Gerard spoke up, happy for the change of subject.

"I have your favorite roast in the oven, should be finished within the hour, and I've also drawn a bath for you."

Rayn paused on the stair to glance back affectionately at the man. It always amazed her how he could anticipate her needs before she needed them.

"Gerard, I adore you."

The butler shyly shook his head, it was no trouble. He motioned toward her as though to hurry her along to her chambers before disappearing back into the cuisine as Rayn rushed to the promise of a warm bath. Shrugging out of her jacket and slipping swiftly out of her shoes, she hopped lightly to the master bathroom and was immediately swept away with the scent of lilac and lavender.

"Oh Gerard, I could kiss you." She murmured as her favorite bathing oils had already been placed on the bath's edge and one bottle already emptied in the steaming water. She shed the last of her clothing and descended the steps into the marble cut stone basin, letting down her hair as she went. The relaxingly hot water came up to her waist at its center and she worked to loose the braid that held her hair in its elaborate bun before submerging herself in the fragrant waters. Words could not describe what supreme bliss it was to sink into unthinkable pleasure after a long day of meetings and endless signing of tedious paperwork. She could just feel the knots of tension unwinding in the heated bath. It was the perfect therapy to any rough day.

Just as Rayn had moved into a meditative state of deep relaxation did a voice crackle over the personal intercom to the bathroom.

"Rayn dear, you have a visitor."

The woman's brow furrowed as she groaned, the tension in her muscles were suddenly knotting again thinking of all the dealings she had put off until tomorrow. Bank officials, open market owners, brokers were all demanding her attention. She just _knew_ something like this would happen and it _had_ to happen in the bath! She sank for a moment beneath the fragrant depths, her sapphire hair floating idly on the surface in her wake before she resurfaced again, rubbing the water from her eyes tiredly.

"Can't it wait?"

There was a pause.

"I'm afraid it can't."

Rayn exhaled.

"Who is it?"

There was the briefest of pauses from her butler that Rayn instantaneously understood; Gerard never hesitated introducing guests. She knew at once who stood at her door.

"A retired racer."

"I want my Havoc."

And when the immediately recognizable voice sounded clearly over the speaker, Rayn instinctively shrank back into the water, her arms over her chest, feeling exposed.

She wanted to kick herself to the jerky movements she had just made and she shut her eyes. Of all people of all times, during her bath no less! There was no doubt in her mind the purpose of his visit. She gripped the edge of the basin with both hands. She could not make him wait.

Reluctantly rising from the water that seemed to resist her leaving with a longing tug around her hips, she deftly toweled off and searched for a suitable outfit to greet her unannounced visitor.

* * *

Razer glared heatedly at the butler and the butler glared right back. The racer had done nothing outright to offend the man, but here he stood, receiving the most hostile of looks from the help.

A clicking footstep brought both men's awareness to the top of the stairway.

Razer's mouth opened.

Rayn wore a light green, spring skirt, ruffled over her knees and a simple but elegant white blouse that hugged to her forearms, leaving her slender shoulders exposed. Her sapphire hair, unbound, fell in a long, thick ponytail down her back and swayed with perfect rhythm to her hips. Black-strapped high heels escorted her down the stairs. As she drew nearer, Razer saw the small ornaments adorning her hair and the quick retouch of makeup made her look simple but undeniably attractive.

She stopped before him and he was enveloped by a lilac and lavender fragrance that made him dizzier than any drink ever had.

Rayn waited, smiling.

When the racer did not speak, she raised one eyebrow.

Razer shut his mouth.

The young woman twirled a set of keys around her first two fingers.

"Here for these?"

The keys immediately grounded Razer and he glared at her.

"Gerard, would you excuse us?"

"But—"

"Gerard."

The butler glanced hopelessly to a shotgun mounted on the wall then threw a scathing look at the retired racer before grudgingly retreating to the kitchen.

"I'll put the kettle on." He grumbled, not bothering to ask the guest for his preference of tea.

Rayn smiled softly after her butler and Razer could gauge their relationship in that one look, before she turned her eyes back to his where a seriousness settled. She waited a moment for Razer to relay his grievances to all the trouble she had caused him, but he stubbornly glared daggers at her. She took a breath.

"What you've heard is true. The Six are dead and I forced them to sign all of their enterprises over to me. Now every last aspect of Kras is mine." Rayn smiled, not bothering to hide her triumph to Razer now and the way her amber eyes gleamed spoke volumes of her deceit those long weeks of the race. She shrugged. "You know why I took your vehicle and froze your assets, let's not waste time. I've also no doubt you've guessed at my terms, but let me make them absolutely clear.

"Under a new contract, I want you to stay in Kras City as a mediator for Mizo's remaining men, keeping only a select few and removing those unfit from the ranks. And then as an advocate for my campaign. Your salary will be doubled and I've arranged a new residence of your own for you across town with a splendid view of the sea. I've also forged an original sport in the racing business and I would sponsor you, with your racing expertise, as my principle racer where you may field other hopefuls as you see fit." She searched Razer's face for acceptance, but the racer's expression was blank. "The only catch is you must accept these terms now. Stay in Kras under my jurisdiction," her eyes flickered between his, "or never return."

Razer simply stared at her.

"I'm retired." He held out one hand. "My keys."

His answer was almost equivalent to his socking her in the gut. Confusion knit her brow and her lips parted in disbelief.

"Did you hear me properly?" Rayn demanded. To her irritation, Razer's eyebrows rose and a threat joined them.

"I won't ask again." He said.

Rayn blinked in shock. She opened her mouth to argue then shut it again. Her amber eyes were burning into his, furious. He remembered that glare.

"Do you understand what I'm offering? Stay here, work for me, and I will give you everything you could ever hope for. I'm not like Mizo; you will have independence, distinction, wealth; I won't tether you to a leash and have you running errands fit for the footman."

"You know nothing." Razer snapped. A cold had settled around his features.

"I know all!" the woman returned so forcefully that there was a clatter in the kitchen. She glanced toward the door and her voice lowered. "I know how Mizo treated his second in command these last few weeks. Why else would you have helped me win the bet?"

Razer's smoldering green eyes met hers unblinkingly. Rayn stepped toward him.

"I saw…what you did on the tracks in the last race. You may have fooled the audience as losing control on the last turn to fire at Jak, but I saw. Mizo would have won had you not shot him down." Her lips were a breath from the racers'. "You wanted me to win."

Razer leaned into her face in such a manner that Rayn had to take a step back. Her confidence faltered.

"I want the keys to my Havoc. And she'd better be in better condition than when you stole her from me. Then we can discuss a suitable penalty for theft."

Rayn yanked her hand from Razer's when he reached for his keys. They jangled pleadingly for their master before she closed her fist tightly on them. There. She saw a glimmer in his green eyes. Her eyes widened.

Was he teasing her? No. No, she was talking business.

"Are you deaf or just stubborn?" She demanded in exasperation.

"Give them to me and let me leave town."

"You won't be welcomed back." Rayn said bitterly. Razer's eyes flashed.

"Will I?"

There! _Was_ he teasing her? And suddenly Rayn seemed to understand. Their previous exchanges came rushing back to her. Razer made himself impossibly difficult when he knew he was in control of the situation, but when they had danced—as equals—the man had had nothing disparaging to say. He was damned near respectful when she proved she could match him.

The crime lady studied him. The cold and composed racer stood there before her, a crease of disapproval in the corner of his lips and a small, demeaning arch in his brow. But something in his bright, emerald eyes danced; waiting for her to make that all-encompassing demonstration of her absolute supremacy.

_Prove it._

Rayn blinked once and, in light of her comprehension, tried a different tact.

"Do you remember that day on the last race of the Blue Eco Cup where we entered a verbal agreement?" Her eyes watched his carefully. "I believe I said something along the lines of, 'If I bested you, you would join my family under contract?'"

"No. An insane woman driver gave my head a knock. The details are fuzzy."

That sealed it. And suddenly a smile was slowly growing across Rayn's lips. She began to retreat with a measured backward step.

"Fine." She murmured, a glint now flashing in her eyes as well. "You want your keys? Come get them."

She taunted him with a jangle of the keys beside her head, and finally Razer's hidden smile mirrored her own. He was advancing faster than she retreated. Rayn promptly turned on her heel and quickened her pace up the steps, tossing a cautioning word over her shoulder with a devious grin. "Though I warn you, I will resist."

"I certainly hope so."

The racer's heavy boots echoed after her lighter clicking heels up the stairs and Rayn's heart was beating twice as fast as her legs could carry her as she tucked the keys away. She landed on the third story floor and sprinted down the hall with Razer only a few steps behind. The door to her bedroom slowed her, but she wrenched it open and was washed over with the oils of lavender and lilac wafting into her bedroom from the bath across the way. She dashed inside only to be slammed into from behind as Razer caught her in his strong arms.

He easily lifted her from the floor and threw her onto her massive canopy bed, nimbly following after. Rayn tried to wriggle from his grasp but he deftly caught both her wrists in one hand and frisked her for his keys. The woman struggled, giggling, twisting from his groping hand wherever space allowed until at last the racer extracted his keys pinned to her hip by the elastic of her panties.

He triumphantly spun the keys on one finger and smiled wickedly at the arrested woman beneath him.

"All right," Rayn puffed at a sapphire lock that had fallen free over her face, "you have what you want, now let me go."

The racer tucked his prize away in his breast pocket. He casually settled himself a little more comfortably over the crime lord; her half-hearted struggles amused him.

"Stealing my car has its price." He raised one eyebrow, heavy with suggestion, and leaned low over Rayn, whose eyes narrowed at him in mock defiance. His free hand glided down her side, heading further south. "And now you'll pay in full."

Rayn tightly closed her legs.

"Sorry, the bank's closed."

Razer's hand instead moved to grasp the hem of her skirt as he pulled upward and his lips moved for her neck.

"Nothing a hold up won't fix."

"The tellers aren't, ah," Rayn's eyes rolled back as teeth nipped at her neck, "frightened by you." She finished breathlessly.

"They should be. I have a concealed weapon."

Rayn's face flushed a hot pink at his implication and she turned her head to kiss his hair. He smelt of smoke and spices. Razer felt her invitation and he rose from his ministrations on her neck to kiss her lips. His kiss was demanding and full of lust as his tongue sought hers; there did not seem to be enough of her for him to taste. Months of this pent up frustration made itself known.

Rayn met his desire with her own, all the sexual tension that had built between them since that first night beneath the bridge flooded from their constraining dams and swallowed them both in the fires of passion.

When Rayn moved her captured wrists, Razer released her and she was tugging at his gloves. She removed them and opened his red jacket, working her hands around to his broad back as he pulled away from their kiss to rip the offending coat and shirt from him. Rayn stole the moment to pull up her blouse and toss it from the bed. The man hungrily drank in her naked chest, a hot yearning in his bold green eyes.

Rayn reached up for him and he willingly came back to her, trailing hot kisses down her neck, shoulder, breast, to her erect nipple. She ran her hands through his jet black hair and over his muscled back; his hands like fire over her body.

Their breath became labored as they sought lower for their throbbing sexes.

Rayn reached for the zipper to Razer's slacks as he tore the skirt from her waist. She curled her legs up to assist him and returned to his slacks, but a jolt of white hot electricity shot up her spine as Razer pressed the sensitive nub between her thighs. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he fell on her neck once more, his lower hand unrelenting. Rayn bit her lips to stifle her cries, her nails digging into the taut flesh of his back; when at last he stopped, her blood pulsing through her. She kissed every inch of skin within her wanting lips she could reach in gratitude.

His lips met hers again, hungrier than before, as Rayn pushed the slacks from Razer's waist. At last he could not stand it any longer.

Razer hoisted himself to the edge of Rayn's bed and worked to yank off his boots while Rayn removed the last item of clothing on her person. She sidled up to the man wrapped one arm around his middle while the other reached for his engorged member; all the while she murmured lustily into his ear. Razer fumbled horribly, unable to concentrate as Rayn giggled wickedly at his folly for her knowing distraction. When he finally succeeded, he tackled Rayn so fiercely she could not help but laugh. They found one another's lips again as they struggled sweating against each other, neither able to withstand the pulsating blood between their thighs.

Razer found her and Rayn arched in ecstasy as he thrust.

They worked in unison toward that end goal, reaching higher and higher tiers of pleasure, each utterly lost in the other when a ripping scream and resounding crash startled them out of their love making.

Rayn's already flushed cheeks and lips became a deep scarlet, panting, as she saw her butler standing in the open doorway, a tea set and serving platter shattered at his feet. The servant's jaw had fallen wide open as he looked into the chamber.

"Oh…my…"

Gerard's eyes rolled back as he collapsed like a board to the ground with a deafening thud.

Razer glanced back at Rayn who still clasped to him and shook his head incredulously.

"Oops." Rayn mumbled.

"You didn't shut the door."

"You were the last in!"

"He'll shoot me when he comes to."

"I won't allow it. You're much too valuable to me."

Razer waggled an eyebrow at her with a haughty crooked smile to match. Rayn giggled and pushed herself up to kiss the corner of his lips. His condescending glare on her was false.

"You're more trouble than your worth."

"You like the trouble I cause." She reached down and gave him a tug which caused him to groan in pleasure. "Blood doesn't lie."

Razer pressed her firmly back onto the bed with a nip to her earlobe.

"Nothing there to steal this time." She quipped.

Razer straightened and hem-hemmed at her.

"There is always something to steal." There eyes met and sparks of villainy flowed between that gaze. Then Razer glanced over his shoulder at the shoes of the fallen butler at the door. "We shouldn't leave him like that," he sighed, constraining his laughter to serve under responsibility.

Distracted, Rayn surprised Razer by shoving him to one side and quickly settling above him with the most conceited smile of conquest; a long tendril of sapphire hair had slipped between her breasts as they rested beautifully above her crossed arms.

"Answer me first: Are you going to be my partner in crime or do I have to make you beg for mercy?"

She tilted her chin upward, one eyebrow raised, awaiting his unconditional surrender. Razer was laughing as his hands reached out to caress her waist.

"There are those claws, kitten."

* * *

**Author's Note: [Nose bleed of doom.] My first raunchy scene of love; I was blushing the whole way. I don't do those...like ever. And POOR GERARD! He sees Rayn actively deflowered then he's all passed out on the floor and our two crime-pushers are too caught up in "business" to attend the poor man. Well, the tension only took 17 chapters to build before spilling over, hey? So the epilogue by popular demand ends as it should. Or perhaps begins?**

**I can't believe I almost forgot the cutscene again. This chapter turned out longer than I thought, I had to factor in Razer's reflections and all. Poor guy, I put him through hell. Oh, the terrible whims of an author. And this chapter radically changed from what I had originally written; something with Rayn literally getting scarred from the last race and Razer demanding she furnish her home with ashtray's. I wrote the epilogue a year ago. But it's all good. My reader's benefit with a monster story. (Topped off at 178 pages on Word with regular spacing, by the way...)**

**This story took me two and a half years to write, too slow! But at least I know it can be done! And I had so much fun writing these characters, I almost grew with them as the story progressed and I thank God that Naughty Dog came up with the series (and cry now that they aren't working on it anymore. Sad day.). Rayn and Razer are such a delicious couple, they will most likely always hold a special place in my long list of obsessions; my first non-canon pairing I've ever really cared about. It was a ride. I'm so happy to have this baby done, but also sorry to wave goodbye. I had such a great time.**

**And I want to give my thanks to all my readers who stuck with the story, those who have just picked it up and reached the end, even those who wanted to hurl things in my general direction for taking a year off and dealing with relatively slow posts. Besides the pleasure I get just from writing this fluff, all I have is you and I sincerely appreciate the readership. Thank you! I hope everyone who has kept up with it or happened here have enjoyed reading the story as I have writing it.**

**Thanks again and I wish all the best!**

**Blackfire 18**


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